Kintsugi
by Calyssion
Summary: When healers can't recover her parents' memories and the aftermath of the war begins to take its toll, Hermione sets out on a quest to achieve the impossible and get back all that she's lost... and maybe find some things she never knew she was missing along the way.
1. Spagyria

**Obligatory A/N: Kintsugi takes place after the events of HPDH. I've kept mostly to canon with two major exceptions: Hermione obliviates her parents and reconstructs their false memories instead of casting a memory modification spell. And Fred doesn't die. I just didn't have the heart to leave him dead.  
Aside from those two, the events of HP stay primarily unchanged in this fic and I just veer off the rails from there. I've been in the mood to write a Charmione for a while and this idea took hold of me and just wouldn't let go, so I've been feverishly working on it ever since. My favorite parts of the books were always the details about spellwork, potionmaking, and the various bits of history so I'll try to delve into more of all of those throughout the story. It starts out a little slow, but there'll be plenty of action and PLENTY OF CHARLIE later on.  
Minimal Ron bashing - he's still one of her best friends, after all. Rated M for language, violence, and future smut.  
****Fair warning: I'm currently juggling multiple schedules so my updates might be irregular - there could be one update a week and then three the next but I'll try to make sure I'm posting at least a chapter every 7 days. I just can't promise the updates will land on a single predictable day. Also, for those of you like me who have been burned a few too many times before: I plan to complete this story and write regularly. I don't know how long it'll end up being, but this chapter encapsulates the first two sentences of a 17-page plot I've got written out soooo it should last a while! Don't worry, it won't take that long to get to the good stuff. I don't really expect reviews this early in the game but if you feel like leaving one, I'd love you forever.  
Obvious disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. My compliments and eternal gratitude to JKR for giving us such a magical world to get lost in when our own worlds aren't quite what we wish them to be.**

Hermione Granger sat in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, trying hard to ignore the rather pungent odor of wet socks emanating from the wizard a few chairs to her right. He had been staring at her for several minutes now between tufts of dripping blue fur and seemed inclined to speak. At present, she was in no mood for conversation. It was all she could do to stay seated, one foot tapping impatiently on the linoleum as she waited for the assigned mediwizards who would accompany her to Australia.

Over the past few months, she'd begun to understand on a personal level why Harry had always hated attention; the trio was stopped everywhere they went - in the streets of muggle London, in the shops in Diagon Alley. Even the occasional grocery run couldn't be completed without someone rushing over and grabbing her hand to thank her for all she'd done during the war. In the beginning, it had felt strange; like they'd mistaken her for someone else. But as time wore on, the Daily Prophet printed more and more detailed articles covering their academic and personal lives. It began touting them as the heroes of the second war. And Hermione found that having every eye upon the three of them only reminded her of how much suffering they'd all been through. She still woke up in the early hours of the morning covered in a sheen of sweat that felt too much like blood, clutching her arm over the raised scars that no amount of magic had been able to fade. She could still hear the voices, see Bellatrix's wild eyes popping at her from the darkness as the witch set an invisible fire in her bones. No, Hermione didn't like to be reminded.

A pair of mediwitches in lime green robes approached just as the blue-furred wizard began to scoot his chair closer, and Hermione jumped to her feet.

"Miss Granger," the mediwitch extended her hand with a warm smile. Her hair was a dark brown that framed her face and her brow was lightly lined with premature wrinkles - the same wrinkles that had become a sort of trademark feature in many healers during the war. Hermione shook her hand gratefully. "I'm Adria Tunsley, spell damage practitioner and this is my colleague Matilda. We'll be accompanying you today. If you'll follow us, we have a room set aside." Hermione nodded mutely, nerves mounting as she settled into the reality that this was the day. She knew her parents would be beside themselves when they figured out what she'd done to protect them. The reunion wouldn't be a wholly pleasant one, she knew. There would surely be an argument when they discovered she'd willingly put herself in danger, made worse by the violation they were sure to feel at having their memories wiped. But she would finally see them again and that thought alone had kept her going while she, Harry, and the Weasleys reunited and mourned their losses at Grimmauld Place.

She followed the mediwitches down a series of winding hallways, trying not to think too much about Fred, who was still currently in a vegetative state on St. Mungo's fourth floor after a combination of unidentifiable curses had nearly killed him in the final battle. The Weasleys had been devastated, but it was George in particular who hadn't been the same since. He spent his days sitting with his twin in the hospital, or else locked away in their flat above the joke shop, leaving the business to run itself with the help of their friend Lee Jordan. Hermione knew he was trying every concoction he could get his hands on in the hope that he'd land upon a cure. But Fred had always been the better hand at potions, and Hermione had spent more than one evening in the last month patching up the burns and boils from failed experiments. Despite her best efforts, George simply sat and gazed abstractedly at nothing with red-rimmed eyes. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences at a time since May.

The mediwitches reached a doorway on the left side of a particularly silent ward and gestured for her to enter first. The room was old but clean, illuminated by a cluster of bright bubbles near the ceiling that mostly concealed a patch of flaking drywall. A single pink flower lay on the slightly battered bedside table.

"Now," Adria said as the door swung shut behind them, "the procedure is a fairly simple one. We'll introduce ourselves as members of a community and housing board. It's a simple spell, convincing your parents we've contacted them ahead of time. You'll not be required to do anything; a loved one's presence in itself frequently increases the chances of cognitive recovery. Matilda will begin by asking them a series of mundane questions for distraction while I cast the necessary charms. Do you have any questions before we portkey?"

"Just the main one, really." Hermione said as evenly as she could, knowing her expression had already betrayed her worries, "What is the probability the procedure will be successful? What should I do if it isn't?"

"That is, of course, an understandable concern," Adria nodded sympathetically. "The success rate relies on several variables. Minds require delicate magic and each mind is unique, so some variations of a charm work better than others depending on the person. For example, an individual who has not had a happy past may not respond to a happy influence when recovering and vice versa. The mind seeks what it already knows. Another major variable is the strength of the original memory charm. A light cognitive glamour is an easy thing to remove, but a charm that changes the conceptual architecture of a person's thoughts is a great deal more difficult to repair. Of course, if the charm is unable to be lifted there are other alternatives. In your particular case, you would have the option to re-alter their memories so that they once again include you as a daughter. There is no guarantee this method would result in a continuation of your prior relationship. Synthetic memories never reach as deeply as the real ones, you see. But they would recognize you as family."

Hermione nodded. Having to look into her parents' eyes and know their memories of her were synthetic sounded almost worse than losing them entirely. If that was supposed to be a comforting alternative, she bitterly doubted the mediwitch had ever lost someone important. Adria gave her what she assumed was supposed to be an encouraging smile and took hold of the pink flower on the table. Matilda mimicked her movements and the two waited. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her fingers around the stem of the plant. With a jerk behind her navel, the three of them vanished.

* * *

Hermione blinked in the bright sunlight and looked around. Though it was technically winter in the southern hemisphere, the day was just as warm as the one she'd left behind in London and the sky was cloudless and vast. She'd landed with a soft thump on the green, well-manicured lawn of a rather large house. A sign on the mailbox read WILKINS in blue lettering and a bleached wooden fence ran the sides of the property. Yes, she thought with a small amount of pride, of course they'd be happy here. The house was white with warm, wooden trim. A sudden lump formed in her throat as she caught sight of her mother pulling a set of tall glasses down from a cupboard through a wide kitchen window.

"Miss Granger, are you ready to proceed?" She heard Matilda ask from behind her. The two mediwitches had transfigured their robes into simple, dark green muggle dresses. Adria was inspecting the unattended lawnmower in the front garden curiously.

"... Yes. Yes, of course." Hermione jumped to her feet and brushed her hands down her dark jeans. She looked again at the window, but her mother had gone. Steeling her resolve for the task at hand, she nodded to the mediwitches and followed them up the front steps of her parents' house.

Hermione could swear she felt her nerves jump to a frantic octave when Matilda rapped her knuckles against the front door. There was a dizzy buzzing in her head and her knees trembled as the door swung open and her father appeared at the threshold.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking around at the three of them with a politely puzzled expression. She had to choke back the sob that threatened to escape her lips at the sight of his too-familiar face. His lively brown eyes were bright, his face tan from the southern sun. The honey-colored ringlets of his hair, just beginning to streak with grey at the temples, were as unruly as her own. Matilda extended her hand.

"Mr. Wilkins I presume. My name is Maria Hedgeweather," Matilda bluffed smoothly, giving the man's hand a firm shake. "The three of us are on the Townsville board of housing and community development. I believe you received our letter?" Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Adria perform a quick, tricky motion with the wand stowed up her sleeve. Her father's eyes unfocused briefly but he didn't miss a beat as he nodded and welcomed them inside.

The interior of the house was bright and spacious in a way their house in England had never quite achieved. There were pictures lining the walls and Hermione realized with a jolt in her stomach that many of them had once contained her face as well. There were odd gaps in those pictures that looked as though her parents were sitting too far apart. There was a comfortable, modern-looking couch in place of pride in the living room. Blue. Her mother had always loved blue. It was everywhere. The fireplace mantel displayed a series of silver picture frames - more photographs from their lives back home. There was even a picture of the couple in the Forest of Dean and she wondered who they thought had taken the picture. She knew she had been the one holding the camera that day.

"Monica, the ladies from the board of housing are here," her father called. It was an odd sensation for Hermione, hearing him call her mother by the wrong name. Like watching a film with the wrong lines. Her stomach was in knots.

"The board of what?" came a voice from down the hall and her mother came into view, wiping her hands on a blue dishtowel. "Oh, of course!" She had to hand it to the witch - Adria's spellwork was quick and subtle. She'd barely raised her arm, as if she were simply picking a speck of lint off her dress. Hermione's mother turned to greet them with a smile. Her heart leapt when those familiar green eyes met her own, but they passed over her with a placid gesture toward the blue couch. They sat.

The next hour was one of the longest and most emotionally draining experiences of Hermione's life. Matilda asked numerous questions about their life in Townsville while Adria performed her assessment and charms under the guise of toying with her sleeve. She watched her parents closely for any signs of recognition, but there were none. Every glance her way sent her stomach lurching with hope. Finally, Adria turned and gave a subtle shake of her head. The three excused themselves and thanked the Wilkinses for their time.

"I'm sorry, dear," Adria said in a low voice as they walked slowly down the front drive. "The memory charms you used seem to have been quite powerful. I'm afraid the effects are irreversible." Hermione didn't respond. Somewhere deep inside her, something had cracked. All the hope she'd felt. All the times she'd played through how she would explain the situation to her parents. All the scenarios where they'd hug each other tightly again and move home, where she could tell them in detail of her adventures with Harry and Ron over a plate of her mother's homemade quiche. All of it was gone.

"We can go back and alter their memories if you'd like," Adria suggested, breaking her out of her reverie. "It only takes a few -"

"No." Hermione interrupted, her voice harsher than she intended. "No," she said again, "They're happy here. They're safe. That's all that matters." But inside, she couldn't convince herself. Yes, they were safe and comfortably settled in at a beautiful house. Yes, they were alive. But they weren't her parents anymore, not in their lives. The realization constricted her chest and she allowed them to place the portkey in her palm as the world came spinning and crashing down around her.


	2. Lute

**Two chapters, two days. Let's get this ball rolling! I'm about to be buried knee-deep in homework and might head out of town over the weekend so it'll be a few days before the next chapter pops up. I just couldn't leave you entirely Charlie-less AND in a dry spell.  
I'm a little rusty here. It's been a few years and long gone accounts since I last posted and don't think I quite found my 'voice' in the story 'til about halfway down, but it should be smoother sailing from here on out and a little more enjoyable to read. Thanks for taking the time, and if you want more ASAP thennnn reviews are a great juicy carrot to keep me up to date. No, really, I remember the joy of reviews.. *sighs and gazes out the window* Send me some, would you? Much love,  
Calyssion**

Hermione thanked the healers perfunctorily and apparated back to Grimmauld Place without another word. She didn't want to see the looks of sympathy or hear their condolences. She didn't want to talk about it. Even worse, if someone overheard... if the news reached any lurking reporters, she'd never escape it. She could already imagine the headlines: WAR HEROINE TRAGICALLY LOSES PARENTS. It was common knowledge that there were still Death Eaters on the loose. The ministry was rounding them up, but it was slow work. Many were thought to have left the country entirely, but the threat was still there. It was one of the many reasons Harry was so impatient to start his Auror training and join the field.

If her parents' memories had been restored, she could have brought them home quickly and the ministry and the Order would have ensured their safety until the turmoil of the war was well and truly past. But from the other side of the world, their protection was limited. For the most part, the other side of the world _was_ their protection. With the Death Eaters scattering like cockroaches, there was no way to know for sure that they wouldn't seek revenge or crop up somewhere else under a different master. Her family was still a target. And that meant passing on the option of a second opinion. St. Mungo's healers were required to keep their patients' information confidential, but that code didn't apply everywhere. She'd read about clinics for the practice of experimental magical cures in other parts of the world. It had been a thought she'd briefly tossed around. But there, every record was shared for medical study. It just wasn't safe.

Hermione let herself in the front door quietly, absently noting that her hands had begun to shake. Voices drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. She caught snatches of the conversation from the hallway. Harry had been wheedling at Mrs. Weasley for weeks now to let him help fund the Burrow's repairs and it sounded like she'd finally given in. There was laughter, muffled by a sob. "Oh, Harry! You are just as much a part of this family as any of my children. You and Hermione both."

She didn't know if it was the declaration that set the tears falling freely down her cheeks. She didn't know if it was the way her limbs had gone numb in the empty hallway as the general gloom threatened to enclose her. She didn't know if it was the slow, final blow to her soul as it dawned on her that her parents would never again say her name with that much warmth. It felt as though a fist had wrapped around her heart and squeezed. The next moment, she was stumbling up the stairs. She flung her hands out as she reached the second-floor landing, shutting her eyes against the black spots in her vision. She was too hot, too cold, suddenly clammy under the collar of her shirt. Her stomach heaved and she coughed on a sob that tore tremors through her body. She had to get out of the hall, away from the fading tapestries that still smelled strongly of doxy spray and decades of mold. Away from the dark, peeling walls that loomed above her. Away from the permeating chill that always reminded her too much of Malfoy Manor. There was a door on her right and Hermione burst through it. She pushed it shut behind her, sinking to the floor and digging her nails into the dark wood beneath her palms. Gods, she felt like her lungs were filling with water. She couldn't breathe.

There was movement to her right. An ink bottle crashed and splattered and she jumped, reaching instinctively for her wand. A man was standing by the desk next to the bed. She hadn't noticed him in her haste to find a quiet place. He was tall and broad-shouldered and he had clearly been bent over writing something when she'd burst in. His red hair was shoulder length and straight, tied back from his face with a leather band, and he had a fresh ink splotch on his forearm - a forearm covered with an assortment of burns and scars. Charlie... just Charlie. She dropped her wand, which rolled across the floor, and ducked her head against her knees. She knew she should be embarrassed, exploding into his room and pulling her wand on him with no warning. But the pain in her chest was tight and sharp and the room spun with every ragged breath.

"Merlin, Hermione what happened? Did someone attack-" she shook her head. Words weren't - she couldn't open her mouth without being sick on the floor in front of him. He was on his knees beside her in an instant, his movements too deft to follow. Her vision rippled again. She squeezed her eyes shut. Silence. A hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione," his voice was low. Soft, but commanding. "I need you to look at me." The hand on her shoulder shifted to cup the side of her neck, his fingers heating her clammy skin. "Look at me and breathe." She pulled her head up slowly. Every breath was an effort but those deep blue eyes locked on hers and held.

"Atta girl," he breathed. His hand moved to her face, ensuring she wouldn't look away. The calluses of his palm scratched gently along her cheek and she realized her face was damp from crying. "You're with me. You're safe. Breathe." He nodded his head along with her as she took a deep, shuddering breath. The room stilled. She didn't know how long they sat there as he coaxed her down, his fingers brushing soothing strokes along her neck. He spoke softly like she was one of his dragons and might shoot fire if he let her lose control. Slowly, Hermione's awareness returned and she closed her eyes as the tears welled up again unbidden and slid down her cheeks.

"Charlie, I'm sorry," she whimpered, her face heating. "I didn't mean -" she tried to hide her head in her hands, but he pushed them aside gently.

"No apologies, love." He quirked a soft smile at her. "But if you're feeling up to moving, my knees are killing me here." She must have lost control longer than she thought. Her own legs felt cramped from the awkward angle and she let him help her up. Charlie guided her to the bed and pulled the chair out, seating himself in front of her. "Now, start from the beginning." His eyes searched her face and she brushed a stray curl out of her vision, stalling for time.

Hermione had only told one person what she'd set off to do today. It had been natural to tell Ginny. They shared a room and had grown close over the years, especially after Ginny had realized there was nothing but a sibling-like love between Harry and Hermione. Ginny had been the one Weasley she could confide in when it came to her feelings for Ron. She'd given the younger witch advice on winning over Harry and the two had commiserated over growing pains. They were thick as thieves these days. But aside from a few polite conversations and the fact that he was a member of Ginny's family, Charlie was still very much a stranger. A stranger who'd knelt on the floor beside her. And talked her through her panic like it was normal; like he'd done it every day. He'd find out eventually. They all would. Hermione couldn't keep the state of her parents a secret forever, and soon enough Harry and Ron would begin to wonder why she hadn't brought her family back to England. She looked at Charlie. He sat patiently as if he had nothing more important to do than sit and hear about her life.

"Last year," she said finally, "before term started, I obliviated my parents. I thought a lesser memory charm might be too weak. They had come with me to Diagon Alley and met other wizards. The Malfoys had seen their faces. I wanted my spellwork to hold up if the Death Eaters came calling. In retrospect, I guess it wouldn't have made much of a difference. A muggle's still a muggle to them after all. So I sent my parents to Australia, hoping no one would find them. I gave them fake memories. They don't know their real names. They don't even know they have a daughter." She looked at her hands and twisted them in her lap. "I always planned to come back for them if I survived. If Voldemort was dead." Charlie didn't flinch at the name, though his wand hand flexed at his side.

"I thought if I could cast the spell it would be easy enough remove. So I made an appointment weeks ago at St. Mungos. Two healers came with me to lift the charms today. It... it didn't work." A large teardrop rolled down her nose. "They said the spells I'd cast were too strong. There's no way to reverse them." She was crying again, and it didn't matter that he was practically a stranger or that this was his bedroom. It didn't matter that her nose had begun to run as he lifted Hermione to her feet for the second time and pulled her into a hug. Suddenly, words couldn't come fast enough. It was as though by holding her he'd drawn poison from the wound and now it was draining without restraint.

"They offered to modify the new memories so I exist as their daughter," she sobbed into his chest. "Like it would be the same. It was almost offensive how casual they made it sound. Like my parents weren't real. Like we were playing with dolls." She was soaking the front of his shirt, but he didn't seem to mind. He only pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head as she babbled.

"I know they're safe. They're happy. They've got a gorgeous house on the coast and it's bloody selfish of me to want more than that after everything. But this isn't how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to bring them back." Charlie turned her and sat on the bed, curling her into his lap. He stroked a hand through her hair, dislodging it where it had gotten caught on his stubble, and looked down at her with such an openly understanding expression that it broke her heart all over again.

"Nothing, - No, look at me, love," he lifted her chin with a finger as she wiped at her tears angrily, "_Nothing_ you just said was selfish. You gave them up to keep them safe. Merlin, they're alive right now because of you. That's not selfish, Hermione, that's brave and just about as Gryffindor as they come. You put them first, regardless of what you wanted and that's a damned selfless thing to do. You have every right to mourn them, but don't punish yourself for saving their lives."

Hermione curled against his chest, deflated.

"I just miss them so much," she whispered. "Things got rough last year. When Ron walked out on us and later on when we were captured, I thought of them. It was the only thing that got me through. I don't know how to go on without them. I don't know how to tell the others." Charlie tightened his arms around her. He'd forgotten just how harrowing the last year had been for the petite witch. He'd been traveling back and forth on Order business during the war and had gotten the shock of his life when his youngest brother turned up at the safehouse without Harry or Hermione. His first thought was that something had gone horribly wrong. It had taken all his willpower not to pummel the git when he found out Ron had just given in to his temper and left them in the middle of the forest.

When Charlie first met Hermione she'd looked a bit like a brown, fuzzy version of the muggle Q-Tips his dad had once brought home. She was a slip of a girl with a head of hair that made Harry's look tame. It was like watching a fourth year walk around wearing part of Hagrid's beard. But somehow, she'd grown into her wild curls and the sight had nearly decked him when he'd returned for Bill and Fleur's wedding.

And then he'd seen her again in the final battle, dueling two Death Eaters at once and dodging and slinging hexes as though she were born to fight and his heart had stopped dead. He'd tried to rationalize it. She was his brother's best friend. She was part of the family and if anything happened to her it would break their hearts. He was just scared for her safety. But it had been like watching a dragon take flight for the first time and he'd been prouder and more aroused than he had any right to be for a woman seven years his junior, regardless of the fact that she'd been of age for nearly a year. He blamed Tonks for that one. She'd gone off on so many rants about how age was just a number between consenting adults that it spun his head. When she'd continued her tirades even after she and Lupin tied the knot he'd had a sneaking suspicion she'd seen the way his jaw hit the floor the day of Bill's wedding. Dead clumsy she may have been, but she'd had a keener eye than most. She'd been one of his best friends at Hogwarts and Merlin, he missed her. He'd been the one to lay her next to her husband at the end of it all and it had been his last promise to her that he'd try breaking out of his bachelor shell like she'd nagged him to for years.

Of course, that had been before he'd accidentally caught Ron and Hermione snogging in a half-concealed doorway a few days after the war ended. Since then he'd resolved to treat her like a sister and keep his mitts off, though it didn't stop him from carrying a conflagration of a torch for the quick-witted witch. And he'd tried. Merlin, he'd tried. Of all the imagined scenarios that flitted unbidden through his mind in the lonely hours of the night, having her burst into his room in tears wasn't one he'd expected. He knew the symptoms of a panic attack. He'd helped Nymphadora through several of them after Ted died, and the wizards at the sanctuary had been through their fair share of shit as well. He'd expected Hermione to faint or even get sick. What he hadn't expected was for the witch he'd been inadvertently mooning after to wind up curled in his arms, in his room, on his bed. And he felt like an arse for enjoying even a moment of it when she was so clearly oblivious to anything but the loss of her parents. He rocked her slightly in his arms 'til she quieted, mulling it over.

"If you need extra support or want me to be the one to break the news to Mum and Dad privately, you let me know." He knew his mum well enough to know she'd make a scene if the information took her by surprise and the last thing Hermione needed was a breakdown in front of everyone. She looked up at him and it took a steady mental chant of '_Ron's girl_' not to get lost in those brown eyes.

"Oh, Charlie," Merlin, just hearing his name on her lips did terrible things to his self-control. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering." Ron's. Not his. "You've been through enough hell for one day."

"You're sure you wouldn't mind? Telling your parents, I mean. Harry and Ron will be pissed enough that Ginny already knew where I was headed this morning. I'll have to tell them in person." She looked exhausted at the prospect and Charlie felt an irrational urge to tuck her away in his bed and let her sleep it off until morning. Instead, he gave her a wry smile.

"I can handle them. Mum can be a bit... overwhelming when she's emotional." It was an understatement. He'd seen his mum cry over a badly timed cup of tea. Hermione chuckled.

"Thank you. For scraping me off the floor like that. Usually, I can keep it contained. I think..." Hermione trailed off, nibbling at her lip contemplatively. "I think it would help to have you there when I tell the boys."

"Do the panic attacks happen often?" Charlie asked, brow furrowing. He didn't like the thought of her alone and hyperventilating in a dingy room in Grimmauld Place. The atmosphere of the old Black family residence was eerie at best. She shrugged.

"They're worse at night, and not typically this bad. Usually, I can get away in time to deal with it alone. Ron was in the room once and I think that made it worse. He thought I'd been cursed." She let out a self-deprecating huff of laughter at the memory and Charlie marveled that the woman in his arms could laugh anything off after all she'd been through. "This place doesn't really help," she confessed, examining his hand where he'd curled it under her knees. How long had they been sitting like this? He should put her down... but she didn't seem embarrassed that he was holding her in ways he'd never consider cradling a sister. Then again, she'd been through a lot.

"I'd have to agree with you there. I've spent a fair bit of time here over the last year and it's never grown on me. I was actually writing a letter to the head of the sanctuary when you came in. I think it's about time I headed back to Romania, now that things are settling down."

"Oh," her eyebrows drew together. Was that disappointment? "Ginny will really miss you. You're her favorite brother, you know." Well, a man could dream. He'd been tossing around an idea to get them out of the house for a while anyway. It would do them all some good and give his parents time to focus on George, who'd been drinking like a fish since May. Now was as good a time as any to place the offer.

"Actually, I've been thinking you, Gin, and the boys might like a little change of scenery. She might not be too sad at my leaving if you lot come stay a week at the sanctuary." Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"People are allowed to visit?"

"Nah," he grinned, "but you've got a free pass as long as I work there. The only authorized visitors are family and ministry employees. DRCMC officials and the like. It used to be open to everyone but there was a nasty incident long before my time and someone got eaten. He snuck into the paddock of a nesting fireball and tried to snatch some of her eggs. It was a nightmare, or so I'm told."

"Serves him right," Hermione huffed. "I've seen how protective dragons can get." He laughed. It had been both hilarious and nerve-wracking watching the school champions try to sneak a golden egg out from under a broody drakaina. Transporting those dragons, however, was something he never wanted to repeat. He still had the scars to prove it.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the stairwell. "Be a dear and go get Hermione. Dinner's almost ready!"

"On it, Mum!" Charlie called back, returning his attention to the witch nestled in his arms. Reluctantly, he set Hermione on her feet. "You good to go now? I'll pull my folks aside and talk to them later tonight. Best not to do it when she's hungry," he flicked a thumb toward the doorway and Hermione laughed. She was almost to the door when he caught her hand. She looked up at him questioningly.

So easy. It would be so easy to pull her to him and run his fingers through that wild hair, to crush his lips to hers and find out what she tasted like under his tongue. What sort of noises she made. What her nails felt like against his skin. No. Ron's territory. They'd both made that abundantly clear, even if they hadn't known they'd been spotted. He shook off the thought and met her eyes.

"If you have another attack and need a safe place, you're always welcome at my door. I don't want you facing that alone when you don't have to."

She gave his hand a tight squeeze, a soft smile playing across her lips.

"Thanks, Charlie."


	3. Succedaneum

**Not as long of a wait 'til the next chapter after all! Honestly, I had some unexpected free time and couldn't stay away. Also, a huge thank you to my two wonderful reviewers. Last slowish chapter before we get to see some dragons and adventure. Happy Friday!**

Dinner at Grimmauld Place was a much quieter affair without the twins and the last of the Marauders. Compared to the prank-filled dinners at the Burrow, it was downright depressing. But Mrs. Weasley kept the conversation flowing as best she could and there were always second, third, and fourth helpings of everything. The kitchen and dining area were probably the most comfortable places in the whole of the house, now that Harry had won Kreacher over. The house elf wouldn't allow Mrs. Weasley to do any of the laundry or the dishes and, for a wizened old elf, he kept the place in perfect order as if there had never been a time he'd resented them at all.

Charlie was watching Hermione from across the table. She was keeping up appearances well enough, laughing softly at something Ginny said, but that spark of mischief and brilliance in her eyes seemed all but extinguished. It would take time and a good deal of support from her friends before she'd be able to move past the loss of her parents. It had damn near physically hurt, seeing her fall apart before his eyes upstairs.

Ginny had noticed something was amiss. She was keeping the brunette entertained and distracted enough that Hermione had stopped pushing the food around on her plate and actually eaten some of it. He felt a rush of gratitude for his little sister. She'd always been a smart, feisty little thing but during the course of her years at Hogwarts, she'd grown into a fiercely independent woman and a loyal friend. Hearing the stories of her escapades in the DA had nearly made him burst with pride.

On Hermione's other side, Ron hadn't noticed a damn thing. He was tucking into his third helping of pork chops with a revolting amount of gusto and had only resurfaced and joined the conversation long enough to ask them to pass the potatoes. Charlie frowned down at his plate. Was his brother really that oblivious to the fact that his witch was hanging by a thread?

Mrs. Weasley, whose shrewd eyes missed nothing, had given Charlie a quizzical look as he led Hermione into the kitchen with a hand on the small of her back. Her attention hadn't shifted from him for more than a minute since. The truth was, as much as he both hated and loved his mother's nagging, raising Fred and George had caused her to be entirely too observant. He knew she was waiting for the right moment after dinner to pounce and grill him about why he had his hands anywhere near her youngest son's... friend. Interest. He didn't know how much his mum knew about the nighttime activities of her children but judging by the fact that she wasn't currently making moon eyes at the pair seated side by side at the long wooden table, he could assume they hadn't announced their relationship.

He desperately needed to get back to Romania. The stillness of the old house was driving him mad and fixating on an alluring - taken - woman wasn't helping. He needed to be back at the sanctuary, breathing in the crisp air of the mountains and dodging bursts of flame when one of his charges got tetchy. He'd even take a run-in with Brutus, the old vipertooth who'd holed up in a cave at the edge of the park and saw handler-hunting as his personal source of entertainment. Anything to take the edge off.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Charlie?" his sister nudged him under the table. Like their mother, she noticed far too much. It was part of what made her such an excellent chaser, but it also made her a right pain in the arse at times. Her penchant for sniffing out secrets was even more dangerous because she was in on half the mischief his younger siblings plotted.

"How would you lot like to come with me to Romania for a week?" he asked, hoping it would sidetrack her completely. Down the table, Molly Weasley dropped her fork.

"Charlie, did you even ask-"

"We'd love to!" Ginny cut her off, grinning widely. "It's beautiful there. Harry, I bet we could get a picture of Norberta to send to Hagrid..." and she was off, eyes shining as she recounted all that she knew about the dragon sanctuary. Charlie silently congratulated himself on a job well done. It wasn't easy to out-maneuver a Weasley woman. Ron had perked up as well and was spooning more mashed potatoes onto his plate distractedly as he reminisced about the baby dragon that had bitten him in his first year.

"Three of them are of age, Mum, and it's not like I'm gonna hang Ginny off the bars of one of the enclosures." While the others were distracted he shot her a look that plainly said they'd talk about it later. She blinked at him and pressed her mouth into a firm line. It was as close as he'd get to permission until they could talk privately.

Dessert passed slowly. The topic of dragons continued to circulate the table and Mrs. Weasley was still staring at him owlishly as the family polished off the last of the blackberry tart. By the time Kreacher whisked away the plates, sweeping a low bow to Harry and whistling a jaunty tune, the Weasley matriarch seemed about ready to explode with impatience.

Charlie, sensing the impending danger, excused himself from the table. He kissed his mother on the cheek and thanked her for dinner, eager to get out of earshot of the others. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she hunted him down, so he had no qualms about returning to his room and sending off his letter. The barn owl had no sooner departed from the sill than Molly Weasley entered the room, shutting the door with a snap behind her.

"Charlie, how on _earth_ could you think this is a good time to whisk them away to Romania?" She hissed. "Why didn't you ask me? I will not have my only daughter gallivanting about the countryside unsupervised. She and Harry aren't even engaged yet and you'd let them run amok and get into all sorts of mischief while you're busy, I just _know_-"

"Mum," Charlie tried to interrupt but Mrs. Weasley, who'd had all of dinnertime to stew over what she would say to him, steamrolled on.

"Not to mention anything could happen while you're off working. Did you know Harry, Hermione, and Ron _stole_ a dragon? Rode it right out of the vaults of Gringotts! What's to say they won't try something just as reckless now they've got a taste for it? I worry about all of them enough as it is and after everything that's already happ-"

"MUM!" Charlie roared over the top of her. She set her hands firmly on her hips in a way that always meant trouble wasn't far behind and he lowered his voice. "It's the perfect time to take them to Romania. I've got plenty to keep them just as busy as I am and it might give you a chance to stop George from drowning so far into his firewhiskey that he gets stuck to the bottom of the barrel." A pained look flashed across her face, but he pushed on. "And I wouldn't suggest it if it wasn't important. Did you know Hermione's been having panic attacks?" His mother frowned, clearly torn between priorities.

"How is it that you know so much about Hermione's activities all of a sudden?" She asked in a deceptively calm voice. Her shrewd eyes narrowed. "I was under the impression that she spent most of her time with Ron, as he's the one who fancies her." Loaded questions, then. Charlie rolled his eyes, thankful for the long hair that fell to his shoulders and hid the heat creeping up his ears.

"I know because she burst into my room earlier today, collapsed on the floor, and I had to talk her down for about twenty minutes before she was calm enough to stand up " he growled. No one knew how to put him on the defensive quite so easily as his mother. He took a deep breath and set a broad hand on her shoulder. It was partly for comfort, but also partly to make sure he could restrain her in time if what he said next caused her to overreact and rush to Hermione's side.

"She went to see her parents. She obliviated them last year and sent them to Australia. Two healers portkeyed with her today to lift the charm, but there's no way to reverse what she did. Their memories are gone. Mum, she's a wreck and snogging Ron isn't going to fix that." He didn't like the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth.

"Sn-" He watched the color drain out of her face as she registered what he'd said. Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, that darling girl. I never even knew. She's never said a word about them since she's been here, you know. I was beginning to wonder." She pressed a hand to her chest.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions, dear. I thought that - well, if you'd whisked the girl off her feet, Ronald would be so heartbroken. He's been mad about her for ages." He knew it was the truth and he felt a little ashamed for wishing he had a shot. He loved his brothers and would never willingly do anything to hurt them. It was the reason he'd kept his distance in the first place.

"The only place I'm whisking anyone is Romania, Mum, and they'll be back in a week. I just need to get her out of here for a bit. She says this house is making it worse. Something about being captured, I think. I must've missed part of the story while I was away. Tell Dad, would you, but keep it to yourselves. Hermione plans to tell the rest of them tonight and I don't want it made worse by anyone springing the subject on her when she's not expecting it. She's got a lot of healing to do. She'll talk when she's good and ready."

Mrs. Weasley was silent for a long moment.

"It'll be up to her tell you that story too, I'm afraid. To tell you the truth, I don't know how she got that horrible scar, though I can hazard a guess at who did it. She doesn't talk much about herself these days, bless her." She gave a watery sniff and lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

"You're a good son, Charlie. Send them back in one piece."

* * *

"Mum didn't bite your head off, then?" Ron grinned up at his older brother from the couch as Charlie entered the room. The stocky redhead flashed a wicked smile.

"I wrestle dragons for a living. Our sweet mother's a piece of cake." Truth be told, he thought she'd taken the news fairly well. He'd been expecting far worse and it had been a relief that she'd given him leave to take them to Romania without an argument.

"The hell she is," Ron snorted. He leaned back and slung an arm over the side of the couch, grinning. "_You_ never got a howler from her. I'd take a dragon any day."

Charlie settled himself at the other end of the worn piece of furniture and kicked his feet up. Harry was halfheartedly trying to talk a pawn across an old chessboard that had been set up on the coffee table. It explained Ron's good mood; he was always cheerful when winning a game.

"Guess she must like me more than you," Charlie chuckled. "I'm prettier.

"Maybe you were once. At least before you started letting dragons toast you like a marshmallow." Ron ribbed good-naturedly, shooting a pointed look at his brother's scarred forearms. "And since the girls are probably already off packing, you're stuck with my opinion unless Harry fancies all redheads as much as he does our sister."

Charlie smirked and Harry cracked a rather sheepish grin at the mention of his relationship Ginny. Quite apart from his intimidating demeanor, the second oldest Weasley didn't seem the type to launch into protective brother mode without provocation. To his relief, the man had simply clapped him on the back when he'd heard the news and told him it was about time. Harry knew the two siblings had kept up a regular correspondence via owl for years.

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear," Ginny announced in a sing-song voice from the doorway. She settled down next to Harry and immediately began surveying the chess board and whispering strategies in his ear. Charlie watched the couple conspire and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It had been a long time since he'd seen Ginny truly happy. Last year had weighed on her especially heavily and he knew she'd been beside herself with worry for the man currently seated beside her. It was nothing short of a miracle that they'd managed to pick up where they left off as if the war had never come between them in the first place.

The others were so engrossed in finishing the chess game that they didn't seem to notice when Hermione entered the room twenty minutes later, hair still damp from a shower. Charlie lowered his legs from the edge of the table and allowed her to slip past. He tried hard to ignore the scent of her shampoo - a light honeysuckle and orange that twisted its way around his nose and threatened to distract him entirely. Ron, who was still grumbling about the unfairness of a two-against-one match under his breath, looked up at her. Her eyes were puffy and it was clear she'd been crying.

"What's up, 'Mione?" Ron asked worriedly, pulling his attention from the board. "Didn't try to knit Kreacher a hat again, did you?"

Ginny gave a disgusted cough from the other side of the table.

"Of course she didn't, you idiot. She's got something to tell you two. Don't be such a prat."

Ron opened his mouth to defend himself but snapped it shut again at the look on Hermione's face. She drew in a tight breath and reached for Charlie's hand. The gesture didn't go unnoticed and Charlie hid a grimace as Ron's eyes narrowed at him. The last thing he wanted was to be the subject of an argument.

"I bumped into Charlie when I first got back, so he's already heard," Hermione said without dropping his hand. She had obviously noticed the look in Ron's eyes and wanted to head him off before he jumped to conclusions. "And Ginny knows too. I was trying to wait for the right time, but there really isn't one."

"You're not... 'Mione, you're not pregnant or anything?" So much for defusing the situation. Ron's eyes were popping slightly in panic now, and Charlie tried desperately to pretend that he hadn't heard the question. He'd seen the pair locking lips just the once, and that had been enough to set a jealous and irrational fire in his chest. The thought of the two of them going beyond snogging wasn't something he wanted to think about. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Pre - _NO_, I'm not pregnant, Ronald! How dare you even ask that! It's about my parents." It seemed anger was the key to Hermione's honesty. In her outrage, she failed to notice Ron's relief or the fact that Harry had begun to stare awkwardly at the living room wallpaper as if fascinated by the way it peeled from the ceiling. Her nails dug into Charlie's hand but he didn't complain, preferring instead to feign a sudden spell of deafness.

"I went to lift the charms on their memories today." She said, still goggling at the lanky redhead who had begun to blush at his outburst. The distraction didn't last long, however, and Hermione's grip on Charlie's hand shook slightly. He grasped it tighter, ignoring Ginny's sudden interest in the blush that crept up his neck. He was there for moral support. That's all this was.

"The healers couldn't do anything. It seems my memory charm was too strong. They won't - " She swallowed and caught her breath. "They won't be coming back." There was a moment of awkward silence before Ron leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her.

"Blimey, Hermione. I'm sorry I said anything. Merlin, are you okay?" Harry was at her side in an instant and Charlie, both hands freed, shuffled off the couch to give them some space. With her friends on either side of her, he hung around only long enough to make sure she was in good hands and then headed up the stairs to his room. Moral support. His job was done and he didn't fancy waiting around on the off chance that someone read too much into his presence.

* * *

He'd only made it to the top of the stairs before Ginny bounded up after him, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." He muttered, recognizing that look. It was the same look their mother got when she thought there was a new romance brewing, and he was in no mood to make her suspicious. He pushed open the door of his bedroom and kicked his boots off. "She ran in here earlier and had a panic attack. I was just there for moral support. I'm not stealing Ron's girl if that's what you're worried about." Ginny leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms with an unreadable expression.

"Oh, she told me all about that after dinner when I cornered her to find out what was wrong. She told me about her parents. And about how you scooped her up and held her until she calmed down. Never known you to calm anyone down in your bed, Charlie." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Don't say it like that." Charlie ground his teeth. He didn't like feeling cornered. "You make it sound like I planned to seduce her. She was in hysterics, Gin. I was trying to help." Ginny examined her nails for a moment that felt like an eternity.

"I saw the way you blushed back there," she finally said in a low voice. "I haven't seen your neck that red since you got sunburned in Egypt. How long have you been interested in her?" Charlie pulled a beat-up rucksack from under the bed and began to pack, stalling for time. He'd been hoping to go back to Romania without any of his family catching on. He sighed, tossing a stray sock onto the bed. Now that she'd caught on, Ginny would never drop the subject.

"Does it matter?"

"Just answer the question, Charlie. How long?"

"Since Bill's wedding," he admitted. "But she's spoken for, and I'm heading back to Romania anyway. There's really no point talking about it." Ginny snorted.

"You say that like she's a piece of property. She's not actually _happy_ with Ron, you know. It's just... well, he's familiar. She had a crush on him for years. I know I'm the poster child for a good slow burn romance these days," she gave him a comical little grin, "but even I know when something's not meant to last. And I know Hermione. She's stubborn and trying to make it work, but they're not compatible. Now that the war's over she needs someone she can count on. And that's not Ron. He gets jealous and insecure over every little thing and the next thing you know he's headed for the hills again. What d'you think made him leave last year? Harry told me all about it when they got back. Ron thought there was something going on between the two of them behind his back. So he walked out and left them in the forest."

"That doesn't change the facts," Charlie growled. "They're together. And even if they weren't, what have I got to offer? A drafty cabin in the middle of nowhere, away from all her friends unless she likes talking to giant reptiles?"

"Maybe, but you know what it's like wanting more than what everyone tells you is normal. You're smart. You could keep up with her. And she's got nothing tying her to England. She planned to stay here for her parents. You should hear the way she talks about traveling. Her folks used to take her to France. I think she'd be happy in a new place."

"You're still forgetting the obvious, Ginny." Charlie sighed and gave up on trying to find his other sock. He turned to his sister. "It doesn't matter how much I want her. She's with someone I care about too much for me to be selfish."

Footsteps sounded on the landing below and Ginny ducked her head around the doorframe. She took a step back into the hall, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Give it time. You'll see what I mean." She turned on her heel and, with a wink, departed for her room.


	4. Phlogiston

**Bit of a longer chapter for you all this early morning! Hope it starts your week out right!  
Also, to my reviewer from Chapter 3 (since I can't message you) : No, I agree that in a perfect world Molly would undoubtedly put Hermione's happiness before her own matchmaking. But while she means well, what she's seen so far is that Hermione and Ron have been slowly orbiting each other for years. She doesn't know the intricacies of the relationship or that Ron isn't necessarily what Hermione needs. I think she'd be over the frickin' moon if Charlie announced he was serious about someone, but she hasn't witnessed him have a lasting relationship with anyone since Hogwarts. If you recall, in the fourth book Molly's Easter egg gift to Hermione was significantly smaller than Harry's or Ron's, and that's only because of a ridiculous gossip column. She's a protective mother to her youngest children and gets a bit aggressive when she jumps to conclusions about who's jerking who around. She does mean well. Give her some time. She'd be just as irked at Ron if the roles were reversed. Glad you like Ginny, though!**

**Aside from that, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Also, I want to give credit where it's due: I have my own vision of the actual sanctuary but the pub and layout of the cabin complex are influenced by the incredible Kittenshift17. That's the only similarity since I definitely don't want to encroach on her genius turf. She goes into brilliant depth with the treatment of the actual dragons and if I decided to take any more leaves out of her book rest assured I'll be asking her permission first. (But seriously, if you haven't read her Charmione fics what are you even doing with your life. They sizzle, I tell you!)  
Okay, done talking now. If you like the story, please review! **

Hermione awoke early the next morning, having been too emotionally drained to pack the night before. Telling Ron and Harry hadn't been as gut-wrenching as she'd anticipated, thanks in large part to Charlie's calming presence at her side and Ron's idiotic way of jumping to conclusions, but recounting the details had been hard. She'd answered their questions and tried to keep her tears to a minimum as her two best friends held her. They'd escorted her back to the room she shared with Ginny and the three of them sat with her in solidarity until her eyes began to droop, at which point Ginny had kicked them out.

She dragged herself out of bed and pulled on a long-sleeved shirt. Always long sleeves these days. She still couldn't bring herself to look at the raised flesh on the inside of her left forearm and out of sight at least meant somewhat out of mind. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and proceeded downstairs in search of coffee. They were set to leave after breakfast and a lack of caffeine would make the chaos of packing unbearable.

There was a fresh pot in the kitchen and she helped herself to it. Molly was busy making breakfast at the large stovetop and seemed to have taken the previous night's conversation with Charlie to heart, only pulling Hermione in for a silent, bone-crushing hug before turning with slightly watery eyes and busying herself with a large rasher of bacon. Hermione located the cream and sugar and began putting another mug together just as Ginny entered the room. The girl swiped the mug with a quick nod of thanks and took a seat at the table. The boys appeared a moment later, Ron announcing his presence with a gargantuan yawn. Harry followed him somewhat aimlessly, hair sticking out as though he'd lost a tussle with his pillow during the night. Honestly, without magic Hermione wasn't sure the pair of them were capable of setting one foot in front of the other before noon.

"Ron, be a dear and take the plates to the table, will you?" Molly called over her shoulder. "Arthur and Charlie should be back from the ministry any minute now." She cast an eye at the magical clock that had been her constant companion since the war. Sure enough, two of the hands that had been pointing at 'Work' suddenly twitched and spun to 'Traveling.' A moment later, there was a whooshing sound from the den and Arthur popped into view, brushing the soot from his robes.

"Morning, everyone!" he greeted them, waving what looked like a tin can in their direction. "All packed, I take it?" He deposited the can on the kitchen counter without waiting for an answer and dropped a kiss to his wife's shoulder, beaming at her affectionately. There was another rush of air from the chimney and Charlie stepped out. He rounded the corner of the table, ruffled Ron's and Ginny's hair, and dropped into a seat beside them. Hermione hadn't seen Charlie look so happy since Bill's wedding and, even then, there'd been the threat of the ministry's collapse looming over the event. There was no stress lining Charlie's face now as there had been back then, and she had to admit he looked rather dashing with a smear of soot gracing the stubble of his jaw. He turned and caught her gaze. She blinked.

"Coffee, Charlie?" she offered, rather embarrassed at the direction her thoughts had taken. He offered her a grin.

"Please," he said. "Splash of milk, no sugar." The smile lit up his tanned face and she busied herself with a fresh mug to avoid staring. The whole Weasley family had been blessed with straight noses, straight teeth, brilliant red hair and more wild temper and love than she could shake a stick at. It was just their resemblance. Just his resemblance to Ron. She shot a look in her friend's direction and quickly looked back down. Ron was shoving two stacked pieces of toast in his mouth, littering his plate and the surrounding table area with crumbs. It wasn't fair to compare the two first thing in the morning when Ron's hair was one quick transfiguration away from a porcupine and there were still pillow lines on his cheek. It wasn't fair to compare the two at the breakfast table at all, she thought, watching Charlie neatly butter a slice of bread. She'd concluded that the twins must have taught Ron table manners as some kind of sick joke. No one else in the family ate like that. And Charlie - well, Charlie, for all his tidy manners, was watching her make coffee with a strange intensity as though he was considering devouring her instead of breakfast. Her toes curled in her slippers at the thought.

"Ron, slow down before you choke, would you?" Hermione reprimanded, feeling her face turn a delicate shade of pink. She handed Charlie his coffee without looking at him and sat down at the opposite end of the table. Ron gave a derisive snort and mumbled something that sounded more like 'unflghr' than a real word. She rolled her eyes and couldn't help the smile that curved her lips as Ginny smacked him upside the head. No, Ron was... Ron was Ron. He was loyal and dependable and brave. _Except when he snogged Lavender in sixth year rather than work up the nerve to ask you out,_ whispered a traitorous voice in her head. _Except when he lost interest and continued to go out with her because he knew it got under your skin_. But it didn't last. They'd made their peace. He'd grown up. _Except when he threw a tantrum and left you and Harry alone in the forest._ But no. That had been partially because of the Horcrux Ron had been wearing. _Which only accentuates things you already feel..._ She stood abruptly.

"I'll... just finish packing." She said haltingly. She set down her nearly full mug and left the room without a backward glance.

Charlie shot an accusing look at his brother, but Ron only shrugged.

"Women," he said between mouthfuls as if that explained everything. "They'll nag you to death, they will." There was a moment of awkward silence. Ginny got to her feet.

"No, Ron, you're just a prat who doesn't know how to listen." And with that, she upended her glass of pumpkin juice over his head and stormed out.

* * *

"You lot ready to go? Haven't forgotten anything?" Charlie asked the four companions an hour later as they clustered around the tin can in the den. They nodded. The coffee table had been pushed out of the way and the five of them stood in the center of the room with their packs. Ron was still glaring daggers at his sister, who looked oddly vindicated and shot him a smirk.

"Come off it, Ron," Charlie chided, grinning. "It took all of two seconds to vanish the mess and dry you off. Stop looking like she stole your favorite broom." Ron opened his mouth to retort, but the tin can had taken on a blue glow.

"Right, grab on and hold tight to each other," Charlie warned them, hefting his own luggage onto his back. "This is a bit farther than the one you took to the World Cup and I don't want anyone banging into each other and dropping their bags halfway there. If they fall off out at sea they're as good as gone." He waited for them to hoist their packs over their shoulders. "Right arms around each other, yeah? - For fuck's sake, Ron, just switch places with me if you're gonna pitch a fit. We don't have time for this." Ron was still staring at Ginny in resentment and didn't seem the least bit inclined to let her put an arm around him. Charlie wedged himself in between Ginny and Hermione and shunted his brother to the left beside Harry.

"Ready now?" At his signal, Hermione wrapped her hand around Ron's bag. Ron slung an arm around Harry's shoulder. Harry pulled Ginny close, Ginny latched onto Charlie's side, and Charlie just had time to register Hermione's cheeks flare a charming pink as he wrapped an arm snugly around her waist before the tin pulsed a brilliant blue.

"Now!" The group reached forward and grabbed the old can. There was a blinding flash of light and they were off.

Charlie didn't much enjoy the sensation of traveling by portkey. He'd had a bad first experience with apparition and had never quite taken to the idea of being launched into oblivion with the fabric of space spinning and folding around him. But he kept his eyes open, watching for the familiar landmarks of the sanctuary, one hand glued to the tin can and the other banded firmly around Hermione's waist. It felt like an age passed before he caught sight of the familiar mountainside switchbacks.

"Time to let go!" he bellowed over the roaring of the wind, waiting until every last one of them had released the can before relaxing his fingers and letting himself fall out of the sky.

He hit the ground with a thump that nearly knocked the wind out of him. The sky was blue and the wind whipped and hissed through the familiar open plain. And Hermione, flushed and disoriented, had landed atop him.

"Alright, Hermione?" He grinned up at her. Her hands were braced on his chest and she seemed completely unaware that she was straddling him. He brushed a windblown curl off her face and waited for her to adjust to the new surroundings, suddenly grateful for the tall grass hiding them from view.

Hermione's world was still spinning. She felt someone brush the hair out of her face but had absolutely no inclination to move until she regained feeling in her toes.

"You go ahead," she gasped. "I hate portkeys. Just need a minute." She felt movement at her waist. Charlie pulled the pack from her shoulders and slung it to the ground beside her.

"Can't get up until you do, love," a deep voice chuckled. She looked down. Not dirt. Not grass. Not rocks. A dark blue shirt riding up a toned waist. Scars and the hint of a tattoo. Her hands were fisted in his shirt against a broad chest. Charlie. Shit. He quirked an eyebrow up at her cheekily, seeming completely at ease with the fact that she had her legs on either side of his hips.

"Take it easy. Catch your breath. Just don't be too surprised if Ron pops up and tries to hex my balls off for letting you pin me like this." His crooked grin was doing strange things to her stomach and while she could quite easily blame travel by portkey for that one, the sudden heat between her thighs was something entirely different. She scrambled off him and stood shakily.

"Sorry," she said finally, stumbling toward her bag, cheeks flaming. "Traveling like that always makes me dizzy. Makes my head go all fuzzy and my knees get weak and..." she floundered for an explanation.

"I won't tell if you don't," he quipped and she couldn't tell if he was referring to her abhorrence of their method of travel or if he knew that a small, traitorous part of her hadn't wanted to get up at all. Before she had time to dwell on it, he brushed off his jeans and shouldered his rucksack. He held out a callused hand to her and helped her down the grassy slope, waving to Ginny who popped out of the grass a few metres to the left of their landing site. Ron and Harry still appeared to be finding their proverbial legs and it took a minute for them to appear. Ron, at least, seemed a little too distracted by the new location to remember being in a sour mood.

Once the troupe had gathered their belongings, Charlie led them to the edge of the field, up an old dirt path, and through the gates of a quaint village.

"For those of you who haven't been here before," he announced, winking fondly at Ginny, "This village is called Râușor. Technically it's one of two villages with the same name. It's got similar protective enchantments to Hogwarts; anyone who comes looking for this place will end up at its muggle counterpart, which leaves us in peace and negates any risk that muggles will come in contact with the dragons on the reserve. We're in the middle of a national park so if you catch sight of an area you want to explore, let me know. We've got some beautiful views out here, and a swimming hole to die for if the water temperature doesn't kill you first." He led them down the main streets as he walked, stopping along the way to point out various buildings. He gestured to a large wooden building whose walls seemed to shimmer.

"Everything in the village is warded against fire," he explained, gesturing to the sides of the building. "Just in case. This is the main pub. You'll find a lot of us here on our nights off. They've got decent food and the drinks are good but don't go wild sampling them all at once 'cause they'll knock you on your arse if you're not careful." He chuckled and shot a knowing look at Ginny, who huffed.

"Oh, come on, that was one time. I barely stole a sip." This seemed to make Charlie laugh even harder and he led them past the end of the village and into a sprawling complex filled with stone cabins. After a few minutes, he stopped outside the door of one and dropped his pack on the small porch.

"If you wander off to the pub and forget the way back, I'm the only cabin with a green roof in this quad. There's a directory posted at the front of the complex, but just remember row seven, sector two and you'll find it.

"Now, there's a few rules before we go any further. One, don't enter those gates past the complex without me." He pointed down the row of cabins to a large wrought iron set of doors that shimmered with what Hermione assumed must be a powerful magical barrier. "You need a special license to get in and even if you made it through, the most likely outcome is you'd end up a dragon's dinner. You'll see them later, but only with me there. Rule two: Don't apparate anywhere outside the village. There are more than flame wards on this place and there are too many restricted access areas up in the mountains to protect the species that like to roost there. If you hit one of those, it can splinch you pretty bad." Ron hid a shudder. "And even if it's not warded, dragons like their space. You don't want to happen upon one out on the hills. And rule three." Charlie fixed his eyes on Harry and Ginny. "For my own sanity, if you're gonna get up to after hours shenanigans work it out among yourselves who's taking the guest room and keep a silencing charm up because I don't wanna hear it. I'm not Mum and I'm not gonna be around all the time, but no noise and no leaving marks on each other. I don't need a howler for sending any of you lot home sporting hickeys. Got it?"

Once the group nodded, Charlie unlocked the front door and led them inside. There was a small hallway that opened out onto a modest living room. A shabby but comfortable red couch draped with one of Molly's knitted afghans sat beneath a wide window against the far wall. A second window faced out toward the porch and a low wooden coffee table stood unused in the middle of the room. The boys departed to check out the guest room and Hermione wandered around at her leisure, exploring her new surroundings. The kitchen was fairly small but had a low, wide countertop running its length. The floor was honey-colored wood, as were the cabinets that reached to the high ceiling. The small bathroom must have undergone some extension charms because the original shower cubicle had been knocked out and replaced with a deep, wide bathtub that couldn't logically have fit from the outside. Charlie caught Hermione staring at it longingly and gave her a sly wink.

"You were a prefect, weren't you?" She asked.

"Took a liking to that tub on the fifth floor too, huh?" He grinned at her. "That's where I got the idea. I spend enough time on my feet during the day. I needed something I could relax in."

"That's a tricky bit of magic. I'm impressed." If she was being honest, she was a little put out that she hadn't thought of it first. It would have been a vast improvement over the squeaky taps and frigid porcelain at Grimmauld Place. Charlie opened a door down the hallway and she followed him in without realizing it probably wasn't part of the tour. He slung his rucksack onto the bed and waved his wand once, leaving the bag to unzip itself. Hermione watched his belongings zoom to their allocated drawers. Her cheeks reddened as he began fiddling with his belt, back turned to her, apparently oblivious to the fact that she'd followed him in. She turned to leave when the wall by his bed caught her eye. She gasped. What she'd initially thought was a tapestry was actually the bare stone wall. But it wasn't just stone. She could see _through_ it to the forest outside. The grass waved. The clouds scudded across the sky. The boles of trees grew close together at the perimeter of the complex and cast shadows as their branches shifted with the wind.

"That bathtub isn't all you missed from Hogwarts, is it?" she asked softly. The fact that he'd been about to undo his pants in front of her was long forgotten. Her eyes trailed up the exposed beams of the ceiling. She could see the warm wood but beyond it, the illusion of a wide, blue sky opened up overhead. Charlie fumbled with his belt buckle and turned.

Hermione was staring up at the ceiling with such rapture that for a moment Ginny's words from the night before echoed in his head. _You should hear the way she talks about traveling... She'd be happy in a new place. Happy..._ She certainly didn't look out of place, her bag still slung over one shoulder, chin tilted upward in wonder as she watched a kestrel alight on the roof. The sunlight filtering through the bewitched ceiling turned her hair to bronze and Charlie stilled, a hand still on his belt. She looked like she could belong there, with him, out in the wilds of Romania. Like she could be happy there, with the simplicity of an isolated life. With the freedom of it. She turned to look at him, a soft, curious smile playing across her lips. His mouth went dry.

"I got the idea from the ceiling in the Great Hall," he said, voice suddenly hoarse. He swallowed. "My first year here, I missed home a little. Mostly I was happy to be out doing something I loved. I just hated this room. It felt too dark and closed off and I got sick of staring at a stone wall all the time. So I owled Dumbledore and asked if he'd teach me the enchantments." He laughed at the memory. "They weren't easy at first. I accidentally vanished the roof the first time and thought I'd been successful until a bird shat on my floor. The next few attempts were okay, but I gave one of my neighbors a nasty shock when he came back from a hike to find he could see my bare arse through the wall. Don't think he'll ever quite let me live that one down. But I've got it set up now so the ceiling doesn't rain or snow. You'll never get a sunburn sitting in here and it's all one-way projection. Looks like a normal building from the outside." Hermione giggled at the story but turned to him, eyes shining.

"Teach me before I leave?"

"I'll teach you anything you want to learn," he promised, and if it sounded a little too much like innuendo to his ears, well, her face turned a shade rosy but she didn't look away.

* * *

Ginny was right. Hermione had been surprised when her friend assured her Romania would be the perfect getaway. She hadn't quite believed it. She loved dragons; they were beautiful and fascinating creatures. But they couldn't distract her from the loss of her parents. She'd taken the portkey knowing that a new location couldn't fill the void in her chest. But this place - it was extraordinary. The air fizzed with magic - both from the wards and from the dragons they protected - and hummed along her skin. But it was the small cabin with that magical room that tugged at her heart. It was like having a little piece of the castle tucked away in a safe corner of the world where it would never be ruined by war. Everything was so peaceful. Only the distant roars of the dragons interrupted the sounds of the surrounding wilds, and even those felt like they belonged. She could see why Charlie had missed this place. She could see why it felt like home. And somewhere, deep down, she was jealous of the life he led.

She followed Charlie and the others to the gates at the edge of the complex. There was a rune engraved in the lower portion of the door that hummed when Charlie placed his palm against it, and the doors clicked open. He ushered them inside and released the door, which swung shut and sealed itself. Hermione looked around in awe. From the other side of the door, there had only been what looked like a small clearing between the trees. But here, a vast plain opened out onto rocky cliffs that scraped the sky. There was a sprawling metal structure away to their right and beyond it, she could see a lake and hear the thundering of a distant waterfall. And the beat of wings. Charlie and Ginny turned to the trio, enjoying their reaction. Harry was goggling at the cliffside and Ron's jaw had nearly dropped to his shoes. Charlie beckoned for them to follow. He led them inside the large metal building, pressing his hand to another runed lock. The door gave way and they were greeted with a holler from the other side of the room.

"Charlie! About damn time you came back, lad!" A dark-haired wizard bounded up to greet them with a wide grin. He looked around and did a double take when his eyes landed on Ginny. "Gin, is that you?" he cried, enclosing her in a rib-cracking hug that lifted her feet clean off the floor. "You were only a bug-eyed little thing, last I seen ya!" He set her down, laughing. Ginny, who quickly recovered both her breath and her balance, beamed up at him.

"What happened to your beard, Dave? I thought you swore you were never shaving again." Dave roared with laughter and threw an arm around Charlie.

"Little fireball by the name o' Tigris is what happened to it. Last year." He pointed to a shiny patch of skin on his jaw. "Seems he got jealous he couldn't grow one hisself so he took mine out wi' a well-placed sneeze, the little bastard. Had to shave the whole thing off so I wouldnae look like a right mangy kneazle." He grinned down at Ginny, who was clutching her sides in silent laughter. "Who else have ya brough' this time, Charlie?" Dave asked, pulling the redhead into a friendly headlock. Charlie laughed and wrestled his way out, clapping the older wizard on the back.

"Just a few more family members. This is Harry and Hermione and my youngest brother Ron." He turned to address them with a wide smile.

"And this is Dave. He works with me both out in the field and here babysitting the little ones. He's also my boss."

"Pleased to meet you lot," Dave beamed at them and shook their hands. "'Spose I've got youse three to thank for a lot more than just bringin' Charlie back to us, eh?" He turned to Harry. "I hear you took on one of our horntails in your fourth year. How'd you like her?"

"Er. She's a beautiful creature," Harry replied awkwardly, clearly at a loss for what to say about the dragon that had tried to eat him. Dave doubled over laughing.

"Naw, she's a right stroppy fire-breathing bitch, our old girl," Dave cackled, "but she's one of our best breeders. Dead protective of her eggs, see." He winked at Harry, who needed no reminding.

"Ever seen a dragon up close?" He asked Hermione kindly. She stifled a snort and gave a wry smile.

"Once." She said, a grin spreading across her face. She couldn't help it. Dave's good mood was infectious. "When we rode one out of Gringotts." Dave tipped his head back and howled with laughter.

"Got a right beautiful sense of humor, this one does." He clapped Charlie on the back. But Charlie was gazing curiously at Hermione, suddenly remembering a snippet of his mother's rant from the night before.

"You weren't joking, were you," he asked her slowly, something like wonder crossing his handsome face. Dave's laughter faltered.

"You're no' serious? You freed an ironbelly?" He stared at Hermione, gobsmacked. She nodded.

"It was chained up in one of the lower branches of the bank. Looked like it had been there all its life. It was scared of loud noises like it was used to being tortured and I don't think they'd been feeding it well at all. It was nearly blind. We had to make a quick getaway so... we freed it and hitched a ride out. We held on until it stopped for water and then jumped off. I like to think that it made it somewhere safe." Dave was staring at her with a somber expression when she finished and before she could blink he'd wrapped her in a tight hug that knocked the wind out of her.

"There's not many that'd get so close to a dragon even to save it, lass," he told her very seriously when he set her back on her feet. "We've been petitioning to get those damned laws changed for years." He shot an indecipherable look at Charlie, who was still gazing at Hermione as if she'd announced that she was actually a goddess in disguise. "You're one of us, for that kindness alone. If you ever need a home away from home, this place is always open to you." Something in Hermione's chest ached at his tone.

"It wasn't just me. Harry and Ron were there too," she explained, not wanting to them to think she'd freed a dragon singlehandedly. Dave nodded in understanding.

"How much have ya read about ironbellies, Hermione?" He asked her.

"Ironbellies specifically? Not a lot," she admitted. He gave her a kind smile.

"Then yeh'll not know their habits, I'd imagine. But ironbellies are some of the most instinctively untrusting sorts we work with. It's a damn shame there's so few female tamers in these parts 'cause females are the only ones they'll let touch 'em, see. And only a select few at that. You've gotta be right special. If you hadnae been down in those caves, blind or no, starved or no, that dragon wouldnae have left wi' just your friends. And it would have died down there for it." Dave clasped a warm hand on her shoulder. "Tha's why I say you're one of us, lass." He turned his attention to Charlie. "Take her in to see Mince before she leaves." Charlie nodded silently. Dave cleared his throat and looked around at them.

"It was lovely to meet you lot," he told them, a softer smile now lighting his weatherbeaten face. "If ya find yourselves in the pub later, come say hello. First pint is on me." He winked at Charlie and headed through the main doors.

"Right," said Charlie after a long moment, pulling his gaze away from Hermione. "We'll start small and safe today.

**Friendly reminder, if you liked the chapter please consider leaving a review! Thanks so much for reading. **


	5. Reverberation

**Two chapters in one day? Well, happy Monday. I'm enjoying Romania. How about you?  
****Thank you, THANK YOU to those of you who took the time to review. I appreciate you more than you know!  
****Here's your stereotypical warning: there's heat ahead. Nothing graphic in this chapter but this story is rated M for a reason and part of that reason is that it will contain smut later. So if you don't like the little smidge here you probably won't enjoy some of the later bits.  
Anyway, here's chapter 5 because I have no self-control and can't stop myself from writing and posting when the mood strikes. As always, if you like it please review! Thanks for reading.**

Small and safe, it turned out, meant visiting the incubators. And while Ron and Harry grew rather bored after about an hour and decided to join Ginny for a pint, Hermione was happy to sit and gaze at the eggs in their heated, fireproof troughs and listen to Charlie talk about the various species, their incubation times and temperatures, and why they weren't in a nest with the others. She'd felt a special tug when Charlie had pointed out a greyish egg with yellow and silver flecks and told her it contained a male Ukrainian ironbelly whose shell was a little too brittle to stay nested with the rest of its hatchmates.

"You seem rather attached to that one," Charlie said, wiping his brow in the heat of the incubation room. The troughs were charmed to levitate and rotate the eggs on a set schedule to mimic their mothers' routine and the room was sweltering in the furnace-like heat. But Hermione barely noticed.

"I didn't realize other creatures trusted a specific gender. I thought that was just a unicorn trait," she murmured, gazing at the grey egg through the thick glass of the trough. "I didn't realize that dragon wouldn't have made it out without me there. It makes me feel closer to it somehow, I guess, knowing it trusted me at least a little."

"Unicorns are pretty fickle," Charlie explained. "They don't just prefer females. They gravitate toward purity in the most basic sense of the word. They trust virgins. Dragons, though," he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Doesn't matter how much sex you have, dragons who trust you will continue to trust you unless you give them a reason not to. It doesn't mean they won't still get stroppy now and then, mind. But they're clever and they've got a keen sense for a person's character. I can see why one took to you." Hermione blushed.

"It's funny," he continued, his eyes locked on hers.

"We've been searching for more female tamers who can handle the ironbellies for years. Not many women go into this profession as it is, and one the ironbellies actually trust is dead rare. And I've had one under my nose this whole time." He huffed a laugh. "I know it's probably not the career you want, off in some corner of the world away from everyone you know, staying in a drafty cabin every night. But I think you'd be brilliant here. You look half in love with these little ones and they haven't even hatched yet." Hermione bit her lip and gazed down the row of eggs.

"I hadn't ever considered it," she mused.

"When I thought about my future after Hogwarts I always assumed I'd get a Ministry job with Harry and Ron. I wanted to stay close to home so I could be with my parents. But now," her eyes glazed with tears. "I realized during the war that I don't want to go chasing after Death Eaters for the rest of my life. Running from them was bad enough and I don't think those memories will fade any time soon." She pulled her left sleeve farther down her wrist. "Now that my parents aren't in England, I don't know what I'll do. I always had a plan before now. I just feel so lost without them." A tear rolled down her nose and hit the top of the ironbelly incubator. It sizzled against the hot glass and evaporated, and Charlie gathered her in his arms. He didn't ask her if she was okay as Ron would have done. He didn't push her to speak through it as Harry often did. He simply held her and let her tears soak the front of his shirt until she could stand on her own.

"I swear I'm not always like this," she said finally, wiping at a stray tear. "I'm sorry I keep falling apart in front of you. You're just the only one who doesn't push me to be okay when I'm not." Charlie frowned and released her, cupping her face between his hands. He leaned toward her and for one terrible and glorious moment, Hermione thought he'd kiss her. Her stomach fluttered. But he looked her dead in the eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm going to say something completely out of bounds, but I want you to think on it," he told her, one hand combing through her hair. "And I don't want you to think it changes anything between us; I'll always be here for you. But if Ron's really the one you want to be with, he needs to learn. He needs to learn not to just ask you if you're okay until you finally are or until you break from trying to hide that you aren't. If you plan to really give it a go with this relationship you two have been dancing around, he needs to learn to pick up the slack and treat you right." He clenched his jaw and looked away for a minute. His hands moved to grip her shoulders. When he spoke again his voice was soft but strained in a way she'd never heard before.

"Hermione, he's my little brother and I love him. But he's got the most brilliant witch I've ever met waiting for him to man up and be what she needs. And every time he fails you I'm about two seconds closer to hexing him into another dimension. It's not my place to step in and it's not your responsibility to teach him how to be the person you deserve. But if the reason you two haven't made it official yet is that you're not sure he can handle everything you are - the good and the rough - and still stick with you through all of it, then maybe it's time you told him that." Hermione was silent for a long minute. Charlie let his hands drop. Maybe he'd said too much, but there was no taking it back now.

"I'm sorry," he offered finally. "I know it's not my place."

"No, it's not," she agreed, meeting his eyes. "But it's something I needed to hear. It's something I've been thinking about for a while, actually, only no one ever seems to say anything about it." She took a step toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm still mad at you for it, Charlie Weasley." She told him, resting her cheek against his chest. "But only because I hate being wrong."

* * *

Charlie escorted Hermione through the gates of the sanctuary and headed back inside to help Dave in some of the larger enclosures. He knew he was a dick for putting the witch on the spot like that, but she had to know that a normal relationship didn't revolve around adolescent mood swings, perpetual jealousy, and table manners that could put a troll off its dinner. It didn't help that she'd sat with him while he waffled on about his dragons in complete contentment. It helped even less that he'd fallen for her all over again when she told them she'd freed an ironbelly. Merlin, for all her broken bits she was the most incredible woman. Hearing her confess that she couldn't even rely on Ron for the basics of emotional support had made his blood boil.

"You're sweet on that lass," Dave said, eyeing the redhead who was mucking out an enclosure for the newest brood of hatchlings. The sun was setting over the ridge. They'd been out on the cliffside for most of the day while Charlie reunited with his charges.

"Didnae know ya had it in you to look at a bird that tender like." Charlie snorted and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

"You were looking at her 'all tender like' too when she was talking about that old ironbelly. She's with my brother." He retorted. He'd worked under Dave since he'd arrived at the preserve fresh out of Hogwarts and he'd never known the man to gossip about women like an old biddy at a tea party.

"Aye, she's a special one alrigh' but I wasnae the one makin big cow eyes at her like I wanted to whisk her off to my bunk for a raucous night in the sheets. You've gone and got it bad for her, lad. How'd you end up the one wipin' up her tears if she's wi' your brother?" Charlie groaned and leaned against the enclosure gate. Everything he was doing could be done just as effectively with magic, but he'd learned the hard way that relying on magic made his body soft and a soft body meant an easier target for a tetchy dragon. He'd been the first to make the new trainees implement muggle methods, at least until they could prove themselves out beyond the enclosures.

"Probably because I can't keep my damned hands to myself around her," he admitted.

"I've tried. Ron's a good kid, but that's the problem. He's still a kid, even after the war. Maybe Mum coddled him more cause he's the baby boy of the family, but I reckon Hermione's been through more shit in the last few years than nearly anyone her age and Ron doesn't know how to step up and take on something he doesn't understand. He just wants her to be okay, but he isn't willing to help her if she's not. Bloody drives me up the wall, but it's not my place." Dave tapped a hand on the gate and nodded.

"As a big brother, it's not your place, maybe. If ya want her in your family as a sister-in-law. But if you're thinkin' of makin' her family by askin' for her hand one day like you've got written all over your braw face, it's your place as much as anyone's to court her fair and stop hidin' it like a niffler wi' a stash o' silverware. Now git out of that enclosure an' go find her before your head pops off. I havnae seen ya this much of a mess since your pa was in St. Mungo's. If you've got it that bad ya owe it to yoursel to try. And ya owe it to that lass to be honest, elsewise she'll come runnin' to ya for a hug one day and end up wi a bobie proddin' her in the stomach." He gave Charlie a pointed look and stalked off toward the sanctuary gates.

* * *

Hermione stopped at the cabin to tame her curls, which had frizzed out in the heat of the incubation room. She eyed the bathtub again but decided against it. She'd have plenty of time later that night. The door to Charlie's bedroom was ajar and she debated letting herself in and spending the afternoon on his bed, watching the clouds through the ceiling and breathing in the calming, wild scent of him. But it felt like an invasion of privacy, so she curled up on the couch instead and pulled Hogwarts, A History out of her bag. It always calmed her when her thoughts were in a flurry. The sky had begun to turn dusky when she looked up again, and if Ron, Ginny, and Harry hadn't come back yet it meant they were waiting at the pub. So she shut her book, pulled on a light jacket, and headed down the road.

Sure enough, the three of them were seated at the bar. And they were completely hammered. Ginny waved her over with a grin. Her cheeks and ears were rosy and she nuzzled into Harry's neck as soon as Hermione sat down. Harry didn't usually relax long enough to let himself get anywhere past tipsy, but he gave a goofy, lopsided grin and patted Hermione on the head from down the counter.

"I found a keeper, didn't I?" Harry confided to her. Ginny perked her head up and giggled at him.

"No, you found yourself a chaser," she corrected him, grinning unabashedly at her quick wit. Hermione snorted. "And you," Ginny continued, "have a LOT of catching up to do." She waved the bartender over. Hermione thought she looked a bit like a younger, blonder version of Madam Rosmerta. "Three shots of that farcola... well, whatever it was. Three shots of it for my best friend!" She beamed at Hermione and squeezed her hand. "That'll catch you up nicely. I'm only two drinks in, you know." She cackled. Hermione wasn't sure her friend was counting properly but she obediently downed the shots that were set in front of her, surprised to find that she quite liked the flavor of the liquor. She even considered ordering herself another one before realizing she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Ron, seated down the bar, was steadfastly ignoring her.

"What's up with him?" she asked Ginny, who pulled herself off Harry's shoulder long enough to peer down the bar at her brother with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, ignore him," Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes. "He's just in a strop because of the whole ironbelly thing. Didn't like that you were getting all the attention. Called you the 'chosen one' of the preserve and all that." She snorted in disgust. Hermione whipped her head toward him so fast that the room spun.

"Is that true?" she asked him. He didn't look at her, though his ears turned red as he took another gulp from his glass. "You've got to be kidding me, Ron. Of all the infantile-"

"Like you don't know you got special treatment back there because you're a girl and that Dave bloke fancies you." Ron sneered. His face was splotchy. It was Ginny who spoke next, snorting so hard with laughter that her frothy beverage came spewing out her nose.

"Dave's married, you utter arse. To a _man_." She thumped herself on the chest and wiped her nose with a napkin, wincing at the sensation. "What he said about ironbellies is true. I got to see them on my last visit, though they didn't like me much."

"Why is it that you can't accept anything I do is on my own merit," Hermione demanded, getting to her feet. They wobbled and she sat back down. Charlie hadn't been lying about the drinks.

"Hermione, I get that you're bloody brilliant alright? Everyone gets it. You didn't have to show off like you're trying to get my brother to fancy you as well."

"That's rich, coming from someone who's just spent the last few hours staring at the bartender's bum like no one would notice," scoffed Ginny. Hermione took a breath. She knew Ron had once had a soft spot for Madam Rosmerta and wasn't exactly surprised at this bit of news. But everything Charlie had said in the incubation room played in her head over and over again until she couldn't tell which words had been his and which had only been thoughts that had tumbled around in her mind since the start of the summer.

"Can we not have any more comments from the peanut gallery?" Ron shot at her, his ears now the color of a ripe tomato. Hermione affixed a smile to her face with some difficulty.

"Forget it, Ron. It's fine that you were checking out the bartender." Ron let out a sigh, completely unaware he was on dangerous ground.

"You know I just like it when they-"

"I don't care what it is you like, Ronald," she cut him off, her smile turning feral. "What I do care about is that the next time you get involved with a woman, you pull your head out of your arse and treat her like she means more to you than some back-and-forth game on one of your chessboards. Maybe you haven't noticed, but no one else has flown off the handle about any of my achievements or made sure I feel less than just so they know they've still got my attention. No one else _left us_ in the middle of a forest because they got insecure." She was practically snarling now, all the words she'd bitten back for years suddenly flooding the forefront of her brain.

"You know, if I had been fawning over some man serving me a beer you'd have turned purple and exploded at me, but I'm expected to sit by because you 'like it when they walk'? I'm done with the double standards. I'm done always having to make sure you come first - literally - because you can't put someone else's needs before your own. I had a crush on you for years and it took us nearly dying before you even made a move that didn't hurt me." She shook her head at him, angry tears now falling freely down her face.

"So the next time, Ronald, pick someone who you know you'll step up to fight for because you sure as hell couldn't do it for me." She turned on her heel and left the bar on unsteady feet. At one of the tables near the doorway, a tamer let out a loud whoop and applauded as she stormed out, leaving Harry, Ginny, and Ron goggling after her.

Hermione was through the door of Charlie's cabin before she realized what she'd done.

"Oh gods, oh gods," she breathed, shutting the door behind her. She was much drunker than she'd thought and the room seemed to tilt slightly, but she hadn't felt so liberated since... she couldn't even remember. True, she felt horribly guilty for unloading on Ron like that, but at the same time, it felt like she'd finally been honest about a small piece of her heart that had been festering silently for years. At least that one piece of her didn't hurt so terribly anymore. She let herself into Charlie's room without a second thought and sprawled across the bed, feeling oddly torn between laughter and tears. What came out instead was a loud hiccup. She lay back and laced her fingers beneath her head, watching the last of the purple in the sky fade to a deep, starry blue. She'd just begun to count the constellations when the door opened. Charlie waved his wand and a light by the wall flickered to life. Hermione looked over curiously, suddenly glad she was lying down. She thought her legs might give out at the sight of the man before her. Charlie was standing in the doorway, hair loose and tangled. He was sweaty and held his discarded shirt in one hand. His broad chest was bare, tan and mottled here and there with various marks and scars. A beautifully detailed tattoo of a dragon curled around a large burn on his left side and climbed its way up his back. For a moment, Hermione forgot her train of thought. She forgot about Ron and the pub up the road and the persistent hunger nagging at her stomach. She forgot that Charlie was anyone's brother. He froze when his eyes landed on her.

"I was just coming to grab a shower and join you lot. Decided not to go out?" Hermione shook her head, averting her eyes with some difficulty. She fixed her gaze firmly on the ceiling again.

"I went. I saw. I conquered. I came back." She shrugged, laughing absently to herself. Charlie was staring at her, bewildered. Then a slow smirk curved up the right side of his mouth.

"You're drunk." He laughed. "I did warn you to be careful. Are the others as shitfaced as you are?" Hermione nodded, sitting up.

"Worse, I'd guess. I imagine they all had an extra drink after I walked out." Charlie quirked an eyebrow.

"One day in and they're that bored already?" He sounded almost offended that they'd opted to pass on the company of dragons in favor of booze. Hermione winced, bracing herself and getting to her feet. She made it all of two steps from her perch on the bed before her head began to swim again.

"It's not that. They love dragons. With a brother like you, how could they not? It's just that... well, have you ever had a friend you felt you had to cater to because they'd get upset if they didn't have your attention?" Charlie's eyebrows drew together.

"Not of the same sex, no," he said slowly.

"You're telling me they walked out of the sanctuary earlier because Ron was still pissed about getting doused with a little pumpkin juice?" Hermione shook her head. The movement knocked her off balance and she cursed, throwing a hand out to steady herself. Charlie caught her deftly with his free arm, laughing as she stumbled. "Alright, love. First things first, what did you drink?"

"I don't know." Hermione shrugged, distractedly tracing a scar on his collarbone with her fingers. He caught her hand with a laugh, tilting her chin so she'd look at him.

"Ginny called it farcola I think." Something in his eyes turned hard.

"How much?" he asked her. She shrugged again, searching his face. Why did he look angry? She was of age. She was allowed to drink what she liked, wasn't she? Merlin, she wanted to run her hands through his hair. She wanted to run her hands over every inch of him. He chucked her gently under the chin. "How much did you have, Hermione?"

"Just three shots," she said, glaring up at him defiantly. He cursed under his breath.

"I'm not a lightweight, Charlie. I'm not some kid who broke into the liquor cabinet, for Merlin's sake. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Did you bring a swimsuit?"

"You told us to. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just go put it on and meet me back here, okay?" She stared at him like he'd sprouted an extra head, but stumbled her way into the guest room to change. Charlie groaned in frustration. He was going to skin Ginny alive. If this is what his sister had meant by 'Give it time' he might reconsider his promise not to hang her over a dragon enclosure. He knew that drink too well. Ginny had taken one little sip of the stuff and that's how the whole family had found out about her childhood crush on Harry; one shot was enough to make even a full-fledged witch or wizard spill whatever secrets were on their mind and, in adults, that truthfulness was quickly followed by far more physical urges. There was a little tap at the doorway and Hermione reappeared. Charlie's jaw clenched. When he said swimsuit he'd meant a one-piece bathing outfit, not the red muggle bikini that was now hugging Hermione's curves like a second skin. He was going to kill Ginny. She'd managed to effortlessly turn his wildest fantasies into a complete nightmare.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Hermione lounged against the wall with her arms crossed, unaware that it was taking all of Charlie's considerable willpower not to throw caution to the wind and snog her senseless. Instead, he led her to the bathroom and tapped the faucet with his wand. A stream of steaming water and bubbles quickly filled the tub. He sat on the rim and checked the temperature.

"The drinks out here aren't regulated like they are in England," he explained. "Which can make them a lot of fun or a lot of trouble depending on the situation. The thing Ginny called 'farcola' tastes nice but it's got some side effects." He felt rather than heard her move to stand behind him.

"And the side effect of this one is that I'm stuck in a bathtub?" She teased, running her fingers through his hair. Her hand trailed down his neck and she rubbed a thumb across a knot in his shoulder. He bit back a low groan as she explored the sore muscles of his back.

"Sounds dire." He stood quickly, grabbing both of her hands and backing her toward the tub. He tried to ignore the way her lips parted as she stared up at him as if she'd drag him in after her and strip him bare.

"The side effect of this one is first you become incredibly truthful about whatever's on your mind," he growled, kicking the door shut behind them as her nails scraped down his chest. He held her hands tighter.

"And the next is that you become hornier than a drakaina in heat, and I'm not letting you loose around the village like that. The best thing you can do is sweat it out and then eat something." Her face paled and he winced.

"It'll give you a hell of a hangover but it's better than hunting Ron down and shagging him into a coma. He wouldn't know what hit him." There was an odd look in Hermione's eyes as she walked backward into the tub. She didn't release his hands and he was up to his knees in the hot water before he realized he'd followed her in.

"Why would I hunt down Ron?" Mischief sparked in her dark eyes. "I took your advice... or maybe the advice of the drinks Ginny bought me." She giggled.

"Told him exactly what I thought of his behavior." She led him another step into the tub and bit her lip, eyeing his jeans suggestively. Charlie huffed a laugh in spite of himself. He felt a tinge of regret for his youngest brother. He'd been a prat, sure, but getting verbally reamed by this particular witch couldn't have been a pleasant experience. Oh, he'd be having words with Ginny in the morning. This was a bloody disaster. He jerked in surprise when Hermione pulled him down the last step into the tub, her hands sliding down his stomach. Lower. Charlie growled when she pressed herself against him, one hand toying with the buckle of his belt. He snatched her hands out of the water and pinned her to the side of the tub.

"Merlin, woman, would you quit trying to take my clothes off? I'm trying to be a gentleman here." Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water and she gave a frustrated little groan, wrapping her legs around his waist. He cupped her face in his hands.

"Hermione, look at me," he hissed as she ground herself teasingly down the length of him. His body was an utter fucking traitor, straining hard against the top of his jeans.

"_Hermione!_" He'd meant to yell at her, to startle her out of her daze, but the words came out in a gasp as she writhed against him. A low moan escaped her lips. But it was the sight of her left arm that pulled him to his senses. On the inside of her forearm, where the rest of her skin had turned pink in the hot water, a word was carved deep into her flesh. _Mudblood_. The scar tissue was raised as though it had healed badly. As though the word had been cut into her with a cursed blade. Death Eaters. His throat tightened as he gazed at the woman in his arms. Merlin, she'd been through so much. Too much. He stilled. The pleading look in her eyes tore him to shreds but he wrapped his arms tightly around her, hoisted her higher on his waist and held her tightly against him so she couldn't move.

"Not tonight, love," he coaxed in a low voice, brushing a damp strand of her hair out of his mouth.

"I'm not taking you like this when your head's not clear. Just breathe through it for me, alright?" He took a deep breath, then another, until he heard her do the same. He stroked a hand down her back and held still until her heartbeat stopped thundering against his chest. When it returned to a normal rhythm, he lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in a towel. Her eyes were still glassy, but she looked more likely to fall asleep than pounce on him, so he led her into his room, pulled out an old sweater and pair of pajama shorts and left her to change.

He had just finished throwing together a stack of sandwiches when he heard footsteps on the porch. Ron entered first, storming straight to the guest room, and slammed the door behind him. Ginny poked her head in, supported haphazardly by her equally sloshed boyfriend, and grinned at him. He glowered.

"Have a good night, brother dearest?" She asked slyly. She gave a loud hiccup and giggled, clambering toward the sofa. Charlie stepped into the living room and transfigured the coffee table into a camp bed for Harry, who collapsed onto it gratefully.

"You and I are going to have words in the morning, Gin," he growled at her. "I'm not about to have this conversation when you're too pissed to walk, but you're damned lucky I'm not sending you lot home early for the stunt you pulled tonight." Ginny stared at him, startled.

"'S alright though isn't she?" she slurred. "I jus' made sure she was finally being honest with how Ron treats her." Charlie shot a glance at Harry. He'd already fallen asleep, snoring softly.

"That's not all you did," he hissed, wincing as Ginny prodded at the drenched knee of his jeans in confusion.

"I've spent the last hour wrestling her off me because you didn't bloody remember that that drink is a crazy powerful aphrodisiac to adults." He stormed back to the kitchen, swiped the plate of sandwiches off the counter and returned to his room, leaving Ginny staring after him in horror.

Hermione was asleep on the bed, her body completely enveloped in his sweater. His shorts hung past her knees and the moonlight shifted over her face. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her wear anything other than long sleeves since the end of the war. And now he knew why. He set the plate of sandwiches aside to pull the duvet over her, shucked off his sodden jeans, and pulled on a pair of flannel pants and a tee shirt. If nothing else, he would be there for her in the morning, he thought to himself as he stretched out at the foot of the bed and fell asleep.

**See that little box down below? You can post your reviews there in exchange for my undying love. Hope you enjoyed! More later.  
****Calyssion**


	6. Cibation

**Chapter 6! I've got the flu and my sleep schedule is an utter disaster but that all works out in your favor since it means more time for me to drown myself in tea and meds and writing. Take your vitamins and get plenty of rest - seasonal changes are hard-hitters. Don't be like me.  
****I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and if you do, please leave a review for me. I'm gonna be stuck in bed with my cat and a wad of tissues and it would absolutely make my day to hear from you. Also, shout out to NatRose17 - you're an angel for reviewing twice! To my other reviewers, you light up my life. Thank you so much. **

Unsurprisingly, Charlie was awake and moving long before the others began to stir the next morning. The sky was just beginning to lighten overhead, the silence of the complex broken only by the occasional trill of birdsong from the forest. Hermione had managed to burrow completely beneath the covers and she now lay curled in a ball near the bottom of the bed as though she'd gotten cold in the night and gravitated toward the nearest source of heat.

Charlie got to his feet, cast a warming charm on the room in case she woke before he could return, and then pulled on a jacket and boots. He trudged to the edge of the division and knocked on Dave's door, thanking Merlin's saggy left nut that the man was an early riser. The door swung open and the burly, dark-haired wizard appeared wearing a woolen housecoat.

"Mornin' lad. I'd let ya in but Andre's still asleep and ya know how he gets before coffee," the older wizard gave him a grin. "Wha' brings you over so early?"

"Just wondered if you had any extra hangover potions I could snag," Charlie said, keeping his voice low. Dave's spouse was excellent around the older dragons, but first thing in the morning he was just as inclined to breathe fire as any of his charges. "Seems all four of em hit the pub hard last night and I don't fancy spending the day playing nursemaid." To his surprise, Dave let out a wheeze of laughter and quickly covered his hand with his mouth to stifle the sound.

"Aye, I heard about tha'. It was the talk o' the pub last nigh' after they toddled off. Apparently, Hermione gave tha' brother o' yours a right tongue-lashing in fron' of half the tamers. I'm told there was applause when she finished, poor lad. They all wantae buy her a drink an' find out who she is." He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "She's got fire, your lass."

"I bet they do," Charlie said darkly. "I had to lock her in my bathroom when she got back so she wouldn't end up giving some poor bloke the night of his damn life without realizing it." Dave's eyes widened.

"Frumcaadev?" he asked. Charlie nodded sourly and Dave gave a low whistle. "It's no wonder she laid into Ron so hard. Merlin, Nance didn't warn her?"

"Not thanks to Gin, she didn't. I'm guessing Nance thought they knew what they were getting into. So my idiot sister ordered her three shots of it thinking it would get her honest enough to tell Ron off and then sent her skipping down the road to me. She had no idea what it would do. Still calls it 'farcola' like she did when she was a kid; she remembers it as some innocent little truth potion. I damn near sent the lot of them packing when I found out. It was like trying to say no to a veela, Dave." The man winced in sympathy.

"But ya didnae..." Dave trailed off in trepidation. He raised an eyebrow at Charlie, who stared at him in exasperation.

"'Course I didn't," Charlie spat. "I dragged her into the bath and held her there until she sweated out enough of it to stop trying to take my pants off and then I put her to bed. I'm not an animal." Dave sighed in relief.

"Righ'. Gimme a mo." He disappeared beyond the doorway and returned a minute later with a large blue bottle. "Should be enough there for four. Go easy on 'em, Charlie. And stick close to your lass today. She'll likely be feelin' a mite raw about her behavior. Take her to see Mince if it hasnae let up by this afternoon; they could both use a little cheerin' up." There was a loud thump from inside the cabin, followed by a stream of curses in fluid Romanian, and Dave flashed an amused grin at the redhead.

"Aff wi' ya lad. Come round the paddock at ten. I've got my own dragon to wrestle here first."

* * *

His own cabin was still dark and silent when Charlie returned. Ginny had abandoned the couch in favor of wedging herself next to Harry on the transfigured cot and the two of them were curled in each others' arms, blissfully dead to the world. The door to the guest room was still closed and Ron was a late riser at the best of times.

Charlie cast a silencing charm on the kitchen and began making breakfast in the dim morning light. Most days he usually just grabbed a bit of toast and some coffee to start his day, but nothing helped cure a hangover as quickly as a fry-up and one of Dave's potions. Muggle labor in the sanctuary was one thing, but magic still reigned in the kitchen. He brewed a pot of coffee while the food cooked itself and then placed a stasis charm on the lot of it so it would stay hot until the others woke up. Better to keep them distracted as long as possible, at least until he had a chance to sort things through with the witch asleep in his bed. He pulled two mugs down from the cabinet, fixed Hermione's coffee the way she liked it, and piled a plate with food. He wished he'd had the foresight to pick up some of her preferred orange marmalade from the village shop, but it wouldn't be open for another few hours and chances were good that she'd be too distracted after last night to notice anyway.

Balancing the plate carefully on his arm, he entered the bedroom and shut the door softly behind him. Hermione was still asleep, though no longer submerged in the covers. She'd rolled over and was curled with her back against the wall, one long leg peeking out from under the rumpled duvet. The stasis charm would hold for another few hours and Charlie was bone tired from scaling the cliffsides the day before. The muscles in his arms and back were aching after spending so many months away from the grueling physical exercise of the sanctuary. So he toed his boots off and climbed back into bed, hoping for a few extra minutes of shuteye before the momentum of the day caught up with him.

* * *

The sun was shining brightly through the enchanted ceiling when Hermione stirred. Her head was pounding. She groaned and nestled herself deeper into her pillow, turning her head away from the blinding light. Her legs brushed against something warm under the covers and she reluctantly opened an eye. It took a moment to remember where she was and why the room was flooded with sunlight. It took another few moments to understand why her pillow felt so solid. Or why it was breathing. She was snuggled comfortably against Charlie, her head resting against the soft fabric of his shirt. His right arm was wrapped around her, his warm, broad hand curled around her waist. She squinted at him in confusion.

This had to be a dream. She was in the guest room with Ginny after an incredible day at the sanctuary. Charlie had spent the morning teaching her how to identify dragon eggs. And this was a dream. A wonderful, sinful lucid dream she'd never admit to when she woke up. She felt a little guilty that she was fantasizing about cuddling with Ginny's older brother. But maybe it was Harry in the other bed. She didn't feel so guilty for dreaming about a gorgeous, muscly man if it was just Harry in the room. Yes, she could live with that. She nuzzled against the broad chest beneath her and ran her fingers appreciatively over the flat plane of Charlie's stomach. No one had to know what she was dreaming about. And it couldn't be Ron in the second bed; he snored like a hippopotamus with a bad head cold.

Ron... why did she feel so guilty about Ron? Ron... Ron in a pub. Yelling at Ron in a pub. Oh... oh no. Oh Merlin, fuck!

Hermione jerked upright with a gasp, staring wildly around the room. She'd yelled at Ron. She'd said horrible, horrible things and now she was in Charlie's bed and she couldn't remember why. Had Ron kicked her out of the guest room? Were Ginny and Harry too angry with her to let her sleep on the sofa? Her head was fuzzy. No, her head was splitting. She'd gotten drunk, but how drunk had she gotten? The man beside her shifted at her sudden movement and opened an eye blearily.

"'Morning, Hermione." His voice was husky with sleep as he ran a hand down her arm in greeting. Her thighs clenched together involuntarily at the way he said her name. Merlin, his hands felt so... Wait, no. Answers. She needed answers.

"Charlie... what happened last night?" She asked slowly. He sat up with a yawn and blinked, then reached for a glass on the bedside table. He turned and handed it to her.

"Drink this first." She eyed the blue liquid. "It's just one of Dave's hangover potions. Should help with the headache and nausea. Drink up and we'll get to the rest in a minute."

Hermione downed the potion gratefully, sighing in relief as the pounding in her head began to dissipate. Charlie took the empty glass and pressed a steaming mug of coffee into her hands.

"How much do you remember from last night, love?" he asked her gently. He seemed almost afraid to touch her and that set her on edge more than anything else. She took a sip from her mug and sighed appreciatively. He'd remembered to add sugar.

"Well, I remember meeting up with Ginny and the boys at the pub. Ginny ordered me three shots of something I can't remember the name of and the next thing I remember is yelling at Ron about - " She met his eyes in mortification. "Oh, Charlie I was thinking about the truth of what you said in the incubation room and how it mirrored a lot of the doubts I'd been having and then Ginny called Ron out for staring at the bartender's bum before I got there." Charlie reached for his own coffee mug, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked suddenly angry and Hermione wondered if he and the woman at the pub were involved. The thought felt like a lead weight in her stomach and she tried not to focus on what that meant.

"He was mad at me for getting all the credit for freeing that ironbelly and accused Dave of showing favoritism. He said Dave just wanted to get into my knickers." Charlie snorted, looking torn between rage and disbelief and Hermione shook her head. "No, I know - he's married to a man. Ginny cleared that up immediately. So then Ron said that it gave me no right to show off and accused me of trying to get _you_ to fancy me and I completely lost it. I said some awful things to him. I told him he'd have exploded if I'd gone off and flirted with a bartender and then I yelled at him about leaving Harry and me in the woods and that he'd never treated me right and that I was done." Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes going wide. "Oh, gods! I told him he was too selfish to bring me to orgasm!"

Charlie choked on his coffee.

He stared at her in absolute horror for several seconds, coughing for air. And then, suddenly, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

It took him several minutes to catch his breath, by which time Hermione was laughing quietly too, her face bright pink. He reached for her then, pulling her into his lap, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"You're a treasure, Hermione," he told her, and the genuine delight in his voice sent a thrill coursing through her blood. This close, Charlie's eyes looked like the ocean. She could count the layers of freckles on his tanned face. Her heartbeat was a distant roar in her ears as he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"What do you remember after leaving the pub?" he asked gently, his lips inches from hers. He smelled like coffee and soap, like warm grass under the hot sun, like the wild wind blowing through a pine forest, like woodsmoke and fire. Her breath hitched.

"I remember coming back here," She said quietly. Her limbs had turned to jelly under his touch. "I was so angry and horrified at what I'd done but I felt so free for the first time in so long. I remember coming to your room just in case they came looking for me and lying back to look at the stars. And then you came back from the sanctuary and got angry with me for being drunk."

"I wasn't angry at you, Hermione. I was worried specifically because of what you drank. Can you remember?" His mouth was so close to hers, his full lips nearly brushing her skin. She couldn't concentrate. The way he said her name sent gooseflesh prickling down her arms. She shivered and he slid a hand down her back. "Try to remember for me, love," he coaxed.

"You told me to change into a swimsuit and put me in the bathtub." Her eyebrows drew together. "I was dizzy and you said what I drank made me tell the truth about what I was thinking." She pulled back and stared at him in horror, her face going the color of a beet. "I tried to..." the coffee mug slid out of her grip as she buried her face in her hands. Charlie caught it before it hit the bed and set it down next to his own.

"You tried to what?" he prompted her, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Ugh, don't make me say it," she groaned into her palms. "I got drunk and threw myself at you. Gods, I'm so sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. Though Ginny's lucky it was an accident or I'd have sent her packing by now." She didn't look at him.

"Do you remember what I told you when you ran into my room at Grimmauld Place?" He asked softly. He gently pulled her fingers away from her face and tilted her chin up. She met his gaze, agonized embarrassment written all over her features. "You're safe with me. No matter how you lose control, no matter how long it takes. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm here." He stroked a hand down her cheek, brushing away a tear she didn't know she'd shed. "I didn't bring up last night to embarrass you, love. I brought it up because I need you to know I'm not going to hurt you or judge you or take advantage. I need you to understand that no matter what you go through, I'm not running." She let out a whimper at his words and threw her arms around him, burying her head against his neck. After a long silence, Charlie lay back against the pillows and ran a hand through her hair.

"I was a menace last night, wasn't I," she murmured against his neck. The feel of her lips on his skin set a fire in his blood. He debated telling her how badly he'd wanted her for so long, how damned gorgeous she'd looked in that muggle bikini, how if she'd made those advances sober he would have fucked her like a man possessed. But she was leaving in four days and she'd broken things off with his brother less than twenty-four hours earlier. The timing couldn't have been worse.

So he bit his tongue, gave her a playful nudge, and said, "I wrestle dragons, love. There's nothing I can't handle." She let out a laugh.

"When you're feeling up to it, there's breakfast," he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And there's someone I'd like you to meet."

* * *

Hermione followed Charlie through the gates of the sanctuary. She felt much better after a large breakfast. The food had been delicious and she was starting to wonder if there was _anything_ Charlie couldn't do well. Ginny and Harry had been asleep in the living room when they tiptoed past and the day outside was brisk and sunny. Being in Romania felt like coming up for air after hours under water. It made her feel alive in a way she'd forgotten was possible.

Past the protective magical barrier, the cliffs opened out ahead and the sprawling fields rippled in the crisp morning breeze. Charlie took her hand and led her to the metal building they'd entered the day before. When they passed the runed doors he led her down a passage into a changing room. There were suits of a leathery material hanging from a row of hooks against the wall and Charlie took a moment to rifle through them before handing her one that looked to be her size. She ran her hands over the thick brown material.

"Dragonhide," Charlie explained. "It's harvested from the ones who've passed away in our care. The materials are too precious to waste and they're the best protective gear we've got. It's more resilient to fire than any spellwork and I need you suited up before we go any further." He expected her to step away and demand to know where they were going, or at the very least to get nervous at the prospect of coming into contact with any of the dragons. But she just gave him a confident nod and said "I trust you." Merlin, he could have kissed her just for that.

He helped her suit up, sliding the tight-fitting leather trews up her legs over her jeans. He showed her where to stow her wand in the slotted bracer on her left sleeve and made sure she was buckled in securely and tried not to stare at the way the brown leather brought out the gold tones in her eyes or how the snug fit complimented her physique. He reached for his own gear and pulled in on quickly, oblivious to Hermione's eyes on him as she admired the efficiency of his movements and the way the dark grey leather of his suit clung to his thighs and arse and hugged the toned muscles of his back. When they were both dressed he took her hand again and guided her through the hallways to another branch of the building. This wing opened onto a wide circular room with various thick glass doors. They'd been reinforced with metal beams every three feet. Charlie led the way to the far side of the room and gave her hand a little squeeze.

On the other side of the nearest glass door, a large enclosure sprawled under an enchanted ceiling like the one in Charlie's bedroom. And there in the center of the enclosure, curled in a pool of sunlight, lay a fully grown dragon. An ironbelly. Its scales were pale, almost pearly in the sunlight. Spines lined its head and the tops of its wings and jagged strips of pink flesh from old scars covered its flank and side like the striated markings of a tiger. Hermione gasped in recognition.

"This is Mince," Charlie told her. "He found us back in the spring. He's one of the reasons I got called back here shortly after the war ended. It's a miracle he survived the crossing. He was a mess when he turned up, hence his name, but we've got a team of healers specifically trained in dragonology who patched him up. He's still getting his strength back and we're not sure yet if he'll regain all of his eyesight, but he doesn't like dark places. We keep a lamp on for him at night but I fixed up the ceiling myself so he could sit in the sun as he likes. He's here today thanks to you."

Hermione had both hands pressed against the glass of the door and was gazing at the dragon in wonder. There were tears in her eyes.

"He made it," she breathed. "I always hoped, but I never imagined he'd end up here with you."

"Would you like to meet him?" Charlie waited for her to shy away from the offer but she nodded, transfixed by the pale dragon. He gave her a minute to recover herself and then pulled a small device out of the wall by the door. It looked like a small, muggle remote control.

"This isn't a portkey but it does essentially the same thing," he explained, handing it to her. "Click it and it'll transport you back outside the door. It's a necessary precaution in case something goes wrong in one of the enclosures. I can't come in with you. Mince is pretty docile but he's still an ironbelly; he's not fond of men. I'll be right here if you need me." He unlatched a panel between the metal beams and opened it to let her through. Mince lifted his head, tail twitching back and forth at the noise. "Go slowly with him. No sudden movements. If he gets up, stand in a patch of sun and let him come to you." Hermione nodded and stepped through the door as though greeting a dragon were natural. As though she'd done it a thousand times.

Mince swung his head toward her, lifting his spiny body from the floor, and Charlie's heart froze in his chest. Suddenly he wasn't sure this had been the best idea. What if Dave had only meant for him to show her that Mince was safe and healing? Merlin, he'd just let her waltz into the enclosure of one of the largest dragons known to wizardkind and going in after her would do more harm than good. Hermione stepped into the nearest patch of sunlight and the dragon cocked its head, sniffing. Its tail twitched and it dragged a long claw against the ground in a strange, deliberate motion. No, this was not a good idea. He had to get her out of there. Why hadn't anyone thought to create a third party override for the button she held?

Mince stepped out of his pool of sunlight toward her, snuffling at the air. His head was feet from her. Inches, now, as she held out a hand. And then the dragon moved. Charlie pulled out his wand, preparing to throw himself into the enclosure and tackle the creature or shield Hermione - whatever kept her safe. But Mince circled her, snuffling loudly, and then lay down, exposing his scarred stomach. Charlie gaped. The outcome he'd been expecting - hoping for - had been that Mince would stay put, sniff her hand, maybe let her pat his head, and then go back to sleep. But no, the great beast had approached her, wrapped his tail around her, and shown his belly like it might do with a member of his kin. And Hermione, damn it all, didn't reach over to pat him. She sat down among the coils of his tail and pressed her cheek to his belly.

There was a look of pure rapture on her face and Charlie felt his knees go weak at the sight of her as she raised an arm and stroked the dragon's long neck. Mince gave a huff and nuzzled into the touch. He'd never seen a dragon behave like that. Granted, Mince hadn't been raised like the dragons he was used to. Here, the hatchlings were raised by their broodmothers. The sick ones that had been rejected as eggs were still brought up with exercises that mimicked their education in the wild - learning to hunt, learning to play, learning to cook their food with a jet of flame. Mince had been raised deep in the caverns underneath London, but he highly doubted the goblins had shown him any kindness. Yet here he was, curled around the fearless witch like an oversized puppy.

"Oi, Weasley!" A female voice called from across the room. He turned, his legs still shaky from relief and awe.

"Morning, Laura," he greeted the tamer, his voice hoarse. "Thought you were still on leave?" Laura had been at the sanctuary for a few years longer than he had. At the end of the war, she'd returned to England to be with her sister, whose husband had been seriously injured in a ministry attack.

"Thought you were too," the petite blonde shot back, striding up to him. "Got home last night. Rebecca's loads better now that Pete's out of St. Mungo's and I was starting to feel like a third wheel. I missed Romania. Dragons don't cuddle and fuss." Charlie would have agreed with her up until five minutes ago. "Look, I'm guessing you're newly back as well but someone's nicked my gear. Did we get a new hire with a thieving streak while I was gone?"

"No, sorry Laur, that was me," Charlie said. "I didn't realize you were back so I borrowed them." She grinned at him.

"Har har. You couldn't fit half an arse cheek into my leathers if you tried. What happened to em?"

"I've got some friends and family staying with me for a few days. One of them is the woman who freed Mince back in the spring so I figured since you weren't here she could borrow your kit to go say hi." Laura's eyes widened.

"Right," she said, taken aback. "I'd forgotten about Mincey. Never was quite as calm around me as the other ironbellies were. So where is this legend?" Charlie grinned broadly and gestured to the enclosure behind him. She peered over his shoulder.

"You've gone barmy in your old age, Weasley, that's a dozy dragon not a - hooo mother of Merlin!" Laura pushed him out of the way and pressed her face against the glass.

"Pretty much my reaction too," he chuckled. She was quiet for several minutes, goggling at the witch currently reclining against the giant reptile.

"Char, you said yourself it looked like this dragon hadn't ever had a brood of its own. Didn't know how to hunt or interact with the others. It's imprinted on her." Charlie stared at her like she'd grown three heads.

"Come off it, dragons don't imprint on anyone but family."

"Mince never had any family! It's obvious wherever he was before they beat him and chained him up. He's never known a kind hand like that and he's never recognized any of us. Not sure he quite knows he's even a dragon, look! He's got his bloody head _in her lap_ and you're gonna stand there and tell me that's not imprinting?" Charlie stared through the door. Sure enough, the dragon had its snout pressed against Hermione's stomach and was huffing and butting at her hands like a newborn hatchling while she laughed at the attention. His jaw dropped.

"She's not single, is she?" the blonde asked, grinning as Hermione scratched at a patch of scales on Mince's side and the dragon rolled onto its back.

"Who's asking?" Charlie eyed her suspiciously.

"I am."

"Didn't know you swung that way, Laur." She flashed a wicked grin at him.

"Slim pickings 'round these parts, _Char_. Never stopped to wonder why I never asked your pretty face for a ride?" He laughed. "Any woman outside our profession that can stroll into an enclosure with a dragon that size and not wet herself in fright is a woman I want in my bed. And _that_ one happens to be fit as well as fearless. So... is she single?" He looked toward the witch in question. She was on her feet again, laughing merrily as she bent over and tussled playfully with one of Mince's claws. Charlie raked an appreciative eye over her leather-clad figure, her wild curls, the way her skin caught the sunlight as she smiled.

"She won't be in a minute if you bugger off and let me get those leathers back," he said.

* * *

Hermione was in a state of bliss. She'd been on the back of this dragon once before when it was panicked and blind and fleeing for its life. Seeing it safe and recovering had been enough on its own. But _this_. Nothing could have prepared her for the utter joy of seeing a dragon sprawled out like a dog on a rug as she scratched its belly. Mince had greeted her like an old friend, as though he could smell the familiarity of her and associated it with freedom. His whole body thrummed with magic and she patted and scratched him til her veins buzzed with the sensation. She was lightheaded and laughing when she heard Charlie call her name from the enclosure door.

"I'll be right back," she whispered to Mince who huffed and rolled onto his back in the patch of sunlight.

Charlie was grinning at her from the doorway, something like wild pride glinting in his eyes as she strode toward him. Her body felt like it was floating, the magic still humming through her and tickling across her skin. Gods, his smile would have brought her to her knees if she didn't feel so weightless. He looked so perfect, standing there in his leather gear with the light of the enclosure shining off that red hair, like something out of a myth or a storybook. She wished she'd been brave enough in bed that morning to tell him how she felt, that the drink last night had only intensified an attraction that was already there.

She reached the doorway, the words on the tip of her tongue to tell him how incredible it was to touch a dragon, how grateful she felt, and maybe - just maybe - to confess that she'd never wanted _anyone_ the way she wanted him. That it set her on fire the way he could strip her bare with just a look - that look. The way he was looking at her right at that moment, honest and blazing. Charlie met her at the door. He cupped a hand around the back of her neck and, with a breathless and wonderstruck laugh, crushed his lips to hers.

**Want more soon? Leave a review! Happy Thursday, lovelies.**


	7. Conjunction

**Good morning/nooning/whatever you want to call it! My sleep schedule is well and truly reversed now, my body is a tiny universe of tea and phlegm, and I am finally going to bed. But, before I go, a few quick things:  
First, thank you all for taking the time to read this story. It's very much appreciated.  
Second, to my absolutely wonderful reviewers: You are the legs I stand on. You keep me going. Seriously, I wouldn't have stayed up to finish, edit, and post this chapter if it weren't for you.  
And third, dear guest reviewer to whom I can't reply directly: First off, I LOVE LOVE LOVE long reviews! I'm so glad this story has managed to introduce you to the wonderful world of Charmione fanfics. I read your review literally as I was finishing up this chapter and, well, you nailed it when it came to Mince! As to your other musings and inquiries, I cannot say, I cannot say. Those things will be revealed in due time and for now... *shoos you away from my plot notebook***

**Aside from that, happy reading. I treasure you.**

It had been a joke... mostly. Laura was looking at Hermione with such undisguised interest and he just wanted a few bloody hours where he could hold her hand and be the one to make her laugh without his constant guilt over Ron holding him back. Just a few hours of blissful ignorance where he could pretend she was his. So he laid a claim he had no right to and let the blonde walk away huffing about how the good ones were always taken.

But Hermione looked over her shoulder with such elation when he called her name. She turned to whisper something to the dragon beside her and it struck him hard just how unexpected she was. At Bill's wedding last summer she'd been a beautiful woman who'd caught his eye with no effort at all. But she'd gone on to face down the darkest wizard in the history of the world just months later and he'd spent his nights with his heart in his throat wondering where she was, if she was safe, if she was injured, if she was even alive. And then she'd returned, scarred and in pain but so damned strong it knocked the breath out of him. Now here she stood in an enclosure he'd helped build, looking for all the world as though she was made for a wild life like his. And he was forced to admit that she had him, completely and hopelessly, wrapped around her little finger. Merlin, he'd never been so impressed with anyone as he was with her at that moment. He'd had relationships in the past - other tamers, women who passed through the village now and then. They'd been fun but temporary; everyone knew the great love of Charlie's life was dragons. There had never been a witch alive who could compete with that. Until her.

She strolled toward him and there was a fire dancing in her eyes that left him breathless. She was radiant and damn it all, he was done waiting for the perfect time to make a move when every moment with her brought him to his knees. She crossed the threshold of the enclosure and without another thought, without leaving time to talk himself out of it, he crushed his lips to hers.

She gave a soft "Mmph!" of surprise against his lips and for a second he stilled, kicking himself for acting without thinking. And then her hands were on his shoulders, in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with an intensity that ripped a gasp from his throat. He slid his hands around her waist. He didn't care that they were in the middle of the sanctuary as she arched against him at the brush of his tongue. He didn't care that she was leaving in a few short days. Fantasies did no justice to the brunette in his arms. He nipped at her lower lip, splaying his hands across the hips that had tantalized him for months. Her fingers fisted themselves in his hair, pulling him closer still. Merlin, the taste of her drove him wild.

Charlie lost track of how long they stood entangled outside the door. With a final, soft press of his lips, he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

"Is this okay?" he murmured. She let out a huff of laughter.

"It's perfect," she told him, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "You know, as out of it as I was last night if I'd gone looking for anyone, it would have been you." Her confession caught him by surprise and he grinned.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," he said, capturing her lips again. The kiss was slow this time, almost lazy and Hermione sighed and slid her hands up his chest. There was a loud huff and something whacked against his leg.

Charlie looked up in surprise and let out a hearty laugh. Mince was peering suspiciously at him through the glass, the tip of his tail still poking through the doorway.

"I think your new best friend is getting jealous," he remarked, raising his hands in surrender as the dragon blinked at him. She grinned at him and reached through the doorway. The dragon immediately nosed at her hand, chuffing contentedly.

"Oh, Charlie, he's magnificent." She beamed at him. "I've always been fascinated by dragons but I never knew they were so incredible. I can feel my skin hum when I touch him." He grinned at her.

"Dragons are brilliant but they're wild and learn from an early age how to take care of themselves. They learn to hunt and play with their hatchmates, how to fight and fly and guard their territories. This one's a special case. He wasn't raised with others of his kind and the only creatures he'd have come into contact with at Gringotts are goblins. Not the friendliest sort. He didn't see anything of the world except that cavern until you freed him. He's imprinted on you like hatchlings do with their family. He thinks you're like him." Hermione stroked Mince's head thoughtfully.

"In some ways, I am like him," she said. She reached for the buckle on her left arm and undid it, rolling the sleeve of her shirt up to her elbow. She extended her arm to the dragon, who snuffled at the mark and rubbed the side of his head against her hand. "We got caught by a group of snatchers when we were on the run last year," she said quietly, running her fingers between the spines on Mince's head. "They took us back to Malfoy Manor and were going to summon Voldemort when Bellatrix Lestrange noticed we were carrying the sword of Gryffindor. I didn't know it at the time, but a replica had been made and she'd stashed it in her vault at Gringotts. She had Harry and Ron thrown in the dungeon so she could get me alone to question me about how I'd broken in and stolen the sword. When using the Cruciatus didn't get her the answers she wanted, she eventually resorted to this." She tilted her arm. The light from the enclosure threw the raised scars into sharp relief. "So in some ways, we are alike. We both know what it's like to be held down in a dark place and have someone try to break us. And we both survived, scars and all." She gave a watery half-smile. Charlie took her other hand, lacing his fingers with hers through the doorway.

"I saw your arm last night," he admitted. "In the bath. It doesn't make you any less beautiful, love. Scars are just a story of where we've been and what we've survived. You're the most resilient witch I've ever met. I hate what you went through, but I'm so bloody proud of the way you face down each day anyway." She gave his hand a warm squeeze.

"If Bellatrix hadn't tortured me, we never would have discovered that she was hiding the fourth Horcrux in her vault. In a way, I might never have met Mince if it hadn't been for this scar." She turned her head to look at him. "Thank you for bringing me here. It doesn't hurt as much, knowing something so good came of something so terrible."

"Hermione, I've been working here a long time and I've _never_ seen a dragon act the way Mince does with you. Not even close. Trust me when I say the pleasure is all mine." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and checked his watch. "I need to get going soon though. I'm supposed to meet Dave at the paddocks in a few minutes and Laura - the tamer whose leathers I borrowed for you - needs her gear back. Did you want to head back to the cabin?" Hermione thought about it for a moment.

"I should probably go get a shower and do some damage control with the others," she admitted with a wince. "But I think I'd be just fine around Mince without the gear. When you're free could you let me back in to see him?" Charlie grinned at her.

"I've got a break around two. I'll come find you."

"And maybe before you head out again," she suggested, taking a step toward him, "I could get you alone for a few more minutes." His eyes locked on hers as he lifted her free hand and pressed his lips to the raised scars on her wrist.

"You can get me alone any damn time you want, you vixen" he promised, pulling her to him in a searing kiss.

* * *

Charlie met Dave outside the paddocks at ten sharp, an impenetrable bubble of triumph swelling his chest. There was a swagger in his step, a wide grin on his face, and nothing - nothing felt better than the lingering feel of Hermione's lips on his. She kissed like a devil. And those little noises she made when he ran his hands through her hair and over her body turned his blood to fire. He felt invincible. Dave looked up from the edge of the paddock and a wide smile spread slowly across his weatherbeaten face.

"Someone's in a canty mood this morn," he said, doffing an imaginary hat to the redhead. "Either someone spiked your coffee wi' elixir o' euphoria or you kissed and made up wi' your lass."

"You could say that," Charlie answered, his grin widening. "I took her to see Mince."

"I take it by your smile tha' went well. Let her pat him then, did he?" Charlie laughed, shaking his head.

"The bloody beast imprinted on her, Dave." The older wizard stared at him.

"Your bum's oot the windae. Dragons only imprint on their kin."

"That's what I thought too, but Mince has always been a bit different. Laura made a good point this morning; he wasn't raised around his own kind. He probably never even met his hatchmates. It'd be near impossible to transport a dragon to the lower vaults after the first week's growth spurt. My guess is the goblins took him as soon as he hatched and stuck him down there. He associates Hermione with the only bit of kindness he'd been shown til he got here. Merlin, you should have seen it."

"You sure no one spiked your coffee, lad? Tha's no' even possible." Dave eyed him with concern.

"Come to the enclosures on break today. You'll see what I mean," Charlie assured him, chuckling at the image of the enormous dragon resting his head in Hermione's lap.

"Righ' well, so long as you've still got your heid screwed on, first task o' the day is gettin' old Caelys penned up for the healers. Got in a scrape with one o' the alphas up on the plateau and buggered up his flank." He gave Charlie a calculating look. "An' you keep your lass oot of the sanctuary 'til half-past two. I've go' a wee present for her now she's found her home."

Charlie sighed. He'd made it clear she'd have a place as a tamer if she wanted it. Merlin knew she'd ace the entry qualifications. But as much as he wanted her to stay, it was a huge decision and he knew if she had the chance to redo her final year at Hogwarts there'd be no contest. He'd stand by her no matter what, but he couldn't deny that the thought of only seeing her on holidays left an ache in his chest.

"I want her to stay as much as you do. She'd be an asset to this place and you'll find no one with a sharper mind but I wouldn't draw up the documents just yet. She's got the wizarding world laid out at her feet back home. She could wind up as Minister for magic one day and it wouldn't surprise me one bit. I don't think she's ready to settle."

"Call it a hunch, lad." The wizard winked at him. "Now get your gloves oan. I don't fancy sending you back to your lassie wi' no hands."

* * *

Hermione took her time walking back to the cabin, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. And, if she was being honest, she wasn't ready to confront Ron quite yet. The morning had been incredible: breakfast in bed, an unforgettable encounter with a dragon as large as life and as heartbreakingly docile as a kitten. And Charlie. She'd never been kissed like that.

Snogging Ron had been pleasant but odd. She hadn't realized there'd been anything missing in those clumsy, snatched moments of privacy. And Victor, well, it had been chaste and sweet but nothing to write home about. The feel of Charlie's strong, capable arms around her made her feel safe in a way she'd never known. He tasted like cedar and honey and his lips against hers left her insides molten and aching for more. She had needs like any woman, but they'd been controllable and mild compared to the wildfire that blazed under her skin at his touch. She had a feeling he could do things with those callused hands that would make a brick wall shiver in pleasure.

She was at the doorway to his cabin too quickly, even with her leisurely stride. For a moment, she debated sneaking around the back and climbing through his window so she wouldn't have to face her friends and interrupt the euphoria still coursing through her. But she was a Gryffindor and turning away from unpleasant situations had never been her style. So she squared her shoulders and opened the door.

There was a sound like clattering silverware and Ginny flung herself at Hermione as she stepped through the door.

"Oh, Mione, I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't know what that drink would do. I had a sip of it when I was little and it made be jabber on about how much I liked Harry. I thought it would get you honest enough to set Ron straight, but I _swear_ I didn't know about all the side effects. Merlin, I practically drugged you. I'm the worst friend ever. Are you alright? Do you hate me?" She snapped her mouth shut as Hermione raised a hand for silence.

"It's okay Gin. Charlie explained everything to me this morning and I'm not angry. Luckily your brother was a perfect gentleman and made sure I got it out of my system before I could embarrass myself too much. No hard feelings, okay?" The redhead sighed in relief. Harry emerged from the kitchen, a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in hand. He was still in his clothes from the night before and his hair stuck up every which-way as though he'd just walked through a hurricane to get to the living room.

"I don't think any major damage was done," he told her. "Ron took a portkey back to Grimmauld Place this morning but I had a chance to talk to him before he left. He's embarrassed but he's not angry with you. Honestly, I think he was a little relieved that you broke things off. He's been so worried about losing you as a friend that he's really been putting his foot in it. He knows he's been a prat. The only thing he was a little sore about was your comment on his, er, performance. But he'll come round."

Hermione nodded, a bit pink in the face. She did feel guilty for announcing that little fact in front of a pub full of dragon tamers.

"I figured he'd be upset about that bit. I didn't think it would make him leave though." She frowned.

"You're not sad about breaking things off with him, are you?" Harry asked her cautiously. She shook her head, her blush deepening.

"Honestly, I know it's awful but I've sort of been having feelings for someone else. Ron and I were never really official and I know that doesn't make it okay but... Why are you two smiling like that?" Harry and Ginny were sharing broad grins over the re-transfigured coffee table and she raised her eyebrows at them.

"Let's just say a little bird told me someone has feelings for you, too," Harry winked at Ginny. "And between the three of us, there's a witch down at Quality Quidditch Supplies who fancies the pants off Ron but he's been turning her down for months because he didn't want to bollocks things up with you and lose your friendship in the process. I think that's the real reason he went back. And I love you both, but it's a bit of a relief to know I'll never have to play go-between any more. Don't think I haven't noticed; every time you two have ever argued it's had to do with romantic tension one way or another. Take that out of the equation and I think I'll finally get a moment of peace." Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. She really did have the best friends a witch could ask for.

Ginny dropped onto the sofa next to Harry and rested a hand on his knee.

"Sooo now that that's out of the way, do I get to guess who this mystery man is?" She raised an eyebrow impishly.

"You can try." Hermione shot back. Nothing got past Ginny for long.

"Charlie," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

"Wrong," Hermione said, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "Victor and I have decided to give it another shot." Her friends' faces paled.

"Merlin, Ginny, you're so gullible sometimes," she cackled. "Yes, it's Charlie." Ginny flicked a piece of toast at her.

"You're awful! Have you snogged him yet?" Apparently Ginny didn't share Ron's revulsion for the romantic lives of her family members. Hermione blushed. "You have! Thank Merlin, he's been mad about you since Bill's wedding." Her stomach fluttered at the new information.

"He didn't tell me that."

"I weaseled the information out of him through sheer annoyance. The perks of being a sister." She winked. "Well, now that it's just us couples in the house, I say we take some drinks - _not_ farcola - and go on a romantic adventure tonight once Charlie's off work. A tamer at the pub told us about hot springs on the reserve and it sounds divine." Hermione tried not to think too hard about Charlie in a pair of swim shorts. The image appeared unbidden and heat pooled between her thighs.

"I'm in. And speaking of hot water, I'm going to take a shower." She stood to leave but then remembered. "Harry, you remember the ironbelly we freed from Gringotts?"

"How could I bloody forget? I thought we were going to die," he muttered. A wide grin spread across Hermione's face.

"He survived. He's here at the sanctuary and I got to meet him today. He's healing and regained at least a little of his eyesight. He's the sweetest, most enchanting thing I think I've ever seen." Harry eyed her with raised brows.

"Merlin, 'Mione, you sound like Hagrid. Do I need to remind you that thing almost roasted us alive? You're not thinking of becoming a tamer now, are you?" She chuckled.

"You never know. I just might." She headed for the shower, oblivious to the curious look the couple exchanged.

* * *

Hermione was sprawled out on Charlie's bed reading a book on mythology when the front door opened. Ginny and Harry had snuck off to the guest room and the utter quiet in the cabin was a dead giveaway that they'd taken Charlie's warning about silencing charms to heart. Her toes curled as she fought off the irrational urge to run to the door and greet him. She turned the page, smiling to herself as she heard Charlie toe his boots off in the hallway. A moment later his footsteps stopped and she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"I could get used to this view," he told her. After her shower, she'd pulled on a pair of grey denim shorts to lie in the sunlight and donned the tee shirt he'd worn to bed the night before. From the way he was raking his eyes over her, he seemed to enjoy the sight. She gave him a wicked smile.

"Well, you can stand there and get used to it or you can get your arse over here, Charlie Weasley." His lips spread into a crooked grin and he strode toward her.

"I. Have missed you. All damn day," he told her between kisses. She pushed her book aside and he sprawled across the bed beside her, pulling her on top of him. She slid her legs over his hips, bracing her arms on the bed as Charlie captured her lips with his.

"No more long sleeves?" he asked, sliding his hands up her bare arms. The calluses on his palms scraped gently against her skin and her thighs tightened involuntarily around him. She shook her head, a smile playing across her lips.

"Not any more thanks to you and Mince," she told him. His hands reached her shoulders and he slid the neck of her shirt down over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the freckled skin beneath. She shivered when he trailed his lips to her neck.

"Where are the others?" he murmured, nipping lightly at her skin. Her breath caught.

"Harry and Ginny are in the guest room, probably in a very similar position to ours," she wiggled her hips slightly, reveling in the surprised growl that tore from his lips. "And Ron took a portkey back to Grimmauld Place." Charlie frowned. "I was worried at first, too," she said, "but it turns out he's not too upset. There's just a witch at the quidditch shop in Diagon Alley he's been trying to resist for months and now he finds himself a free agent." Charlie laughed and the sound rumbled up her legs.

"That makes me the luckiest man on the planet," he told her, sliding his hands to the small of her back beneath the loose tee shirt.

"And Ginny suggested grabbing some _normal_ drinks and visiting a local hot spring this evening since, as she puts it, it's 'just us couples' in the house now."

"Is that what we are?" he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. She stiffened.

"Um, I suppose that depends on what you want," she bit her lip. She hadn't realized that maybe all he was after was some fun. She still wanted him, but she wasn't the type of girl to throw away a solid foundation for an easy fling. Charlie rolled over, flipping her so she was beneath him, and grazed his lips over the shell of her ear.

"Merlin, Hermione, that's all I've wanted since that dance at Bill's disaster of a wedding," he murmured, his voice husky. She'd forgotten they'd danced together. Just one dance where they'd switched partners every few seconds, but she remembered the way he'd smiled at her. She melted against him, sliding her hands up his arms as he'd done to her.

"It's a date then?" she breathed, her nails grazing his skin.

"It's a date." His lips met hers. "Especially if you plan on wearing that bikini." She giggled against his mouth.

"And what will you be wearing?" She asked him, looping a thumb into the waistband of his pants. "Plan on going swimming in these again?" He chuckled and ground against her, capturing her lower lip gently between his teeth. She let out a low moan.

"Guess you'll have to wait and see, love. In the meantime, Mince is waiting for you and if we don't get out of this bed now, I'll be in shit with Dave for spending the rest of the day showing you _exactly_ how much I missed you." And Merlin help her, the need that throbbed between her thighs at his words nearly unraveled her completely.

* * *

The guest room door was still closed when Charlie and Hermione headed for the sanctuary, so they left Ginny and Harry to their afternoon delight and made their way to the front gates.

When they approached, Charlie slid an arm around her waist and guided her hand to the runed panel. The doors clicked open at her touch and she looked up at him in surprise. He grinned down at her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"In case you thought Dave was kidding about you being one of us. You can visit Mince whenever you like now." The smile she gave him damn near had him rethinking leaving the cabin at all.

He stepped aside to let her unlock the second set of doors to the enclosures and took her hand as they walked the halls together. Everything looked different from the way it had earlier in the day; the halls seemed brighter, his stride was lighter, the lifeblood pumping through his veins filled him with energy and the overwhelming urge to show his witch off to the tamers who'd never seen a woman dance about with a dragon following at her heels like a lovestruck pet. His witch. She'd chosen him. Merlin, he could die a happy man.

When they reached the enclosures, Mince was sprawled in the sun exactly where she'd found him earlier. He lifted his head when she entered the room as if scenting her. When she opened the door and stepped inside, fearless and clad in nothing but her shorts and a tank top, Charlie was happy to sit by the doorway, a moronic grin spreading across his face, and watch her. She was a force of nature all on her own.

And watch her he did. Charlie pulled out the sandwich he'd fixed for lunch and sat back on the floor, laughing as Hermione put the ironbelly through his paces. She had him following her around the room. She played hide and seek with him, jumping to the other side of his tail each time he turned his head. By the time Dave arrived, a bundle slung over his shoulder, Hermione was sitting against Mince's side, his enormous head resting on her legs as he blinked sleepily up at her.

"Oi, where's your lass?" Charlie gestured to the enclosure and took another bite of his sandwich, an eye on Dave's face. Sure enough, the Scotsman stopped dead. The bundle fell from his shoulder, utterly forgotten.

"Well smack my arse and call me a bleedin' centaur. Merlin, she's no' even go' a kit oan!" Mince took the opportunity to roll onto his back, exposing his belly to the witch who laughed and rubbed his scales vigorously. The dragon kicked his back haunches and let out a booming trill. Dave gave a high-pitched, disbelieving laugh.

"She doesn't need one with him," Charlie said, a broad smile on his tanned face.

"Go on, call her over. See what he does. " Dave hesitated for a moment, then poked his head into the enclosure.

"Hermione, c'mere a mo, lass!" he called. Hermione got to her feet and Charlie let out a chuckle as Mince followed her to the door, draping his head over her shoulder. He nuzzled the top of her head, nearly knocking her over. Dave's jaw hit the floor. "He really did imprint on you," he said. "Merlin, I've never seen owt like it. Go' a dragon for a brother now," he grinned at her, thunderstruck. "I got ya this, seein' as Laura's back from leave and needs her gear. Though by the looks o' that lovestruck beastie you won't have much need for it." He handed her the bundle he'd dropped, unfurling it for her inspection. The leathers were grey, only a shade lighter than Charlie's. "Go' ya one tae match yer lad's," he told her, laughing as a blush colored her cheeks.

"It's perfect. Thank you, Dave," she beamed and threw her arms around him. He lifted her off the ground with a chuckle.

"You're one of us now, lassie. Go' your entry license finished up just afore lunch so you can visit yon lizard whenever the mood strikes." He patted her shoulder. "I've gottae steal Charlie from you for a wee bit, though. He'll be back in abou' an hour bu' I need him out in the field. I'm guessin' we'll know where tae find ya."

* * *

By the time Charlie returned and hung up his leathers, a gaggle of tamers had gathered around the enclosure. No one seemed to know where the witch had come from, but a handful of the tamers had recognized her from the Daily Prophet and were whispering amongst themselves about the war hero in their midst. Beyond the door, Hermione was relaxing against Mince's flank, stroking him and talking to him softly. Now and then, the dragon would bump his head against the scar on her arm as if he were acknowledging the shared experience.

The crowd of tamers parted as Charlie made his way through and tapped on the glass door. Behind him, he heard a few people catch their breath as if afraid the dragon would startle and jump into action. But Hermione whispered something to Mince and the creature stood, stretching, and draped his head over her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and Charlie could guess she was promising to come back first thing in the morning. She dropped a kiss on the dragon's snout and made her way to the gate.

As soon as she crossed the threshold and latched the door shut, the tamers crowded around her. Charlie stepped away from the crowd, ready to call them off her if the attention became overwhelming. They wanted to know what brought her to Romania, when she'd gotten there, if she was really _the_ Hermione Granger, and, most of all, how she'd managed to get a fully-grown ironbelly calm enough to cuddle. A few of them eyed her forearm with worried expressions and he was relieved to see her smiling in spite of it.

"I'll be back tomorrow and I'm happy to answer any questions then," she told them as they approached her. She'd had some experience with people swarming her after the war and it had clearly paid off because she grinned around at all of them, unfazed. "But right now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date." Her eyes met his and the tamers stepped back to let her through. And there was that familiar blaze in her eye that made him weak at the knees as she reached him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard as though they were the only two people in the room.

**Here's your friendly reminder that I crave reviews like the air I breathe and that it's really the best, most effective way to keep me posting on the regular. Send reviews for good vibes. The longer the better. I love hearing from you. **


	8. Crucible

**Good evening, lovelies. Sorry for the slight delay in updates but I'm still stuck in bed and I'm way behind on a bunch of other obligations. Scrambling to keep up. Reviewers, you are my sunshine. Thank you for keeping me going. This week's been rough and I adore you all for brightening my day with your comments.  
****On to the chapter - here's your obligatory warning of hot stuff ahead. If it's not your cup of tea, I suggest skipping this chapter entirely as the next 5k words are pretty much not the droids you're looking for. To the rest of you, happy reading. **

It had taken Hermione every ounce of willpower not to lose herself in Charlie and full-on snog him right in the middle of the sanctuary in front of everyone. They'd strolled out hand in hand and had only made it as far as the outer gate when he'd pinned her against the wall behind the nearest building and kissed her until the world spun. They'd resurfaced rather unwillingly when a tamer walked past and let out a loud catcall in amusement. When they finally returned to the cabin, the guest room door was ajar and there was a note on the coffee table.

_"Off to the shops for drink and dinner stuff. _  
_Back soon. Don't miss us too much._

_-G"_

"Looks like we've got the house to ourselves," Charlie said with a devilish smirk. "How long d'you reckon they'll be gone?" A tingle ran the length of Hermione's spine.

"Well, Harry takes a long time to make decisions. And Ginny gets distracted by everything when we go shopping," she said coyly. "They might be a while."

"Any ideas on how to pass the time?" Charlie took a step toward her, a teasing, hungry look in his eyes that sent a throbbing ache through her core. A few years earlier, she might have blanched at the idea of getting physical so early on in a relationship. But she was an adult now and the war had taught her, among other things, that there was no shame in seizing the moment. Sometimes, it was all anyone had. And Charlie, with his muscular frame and rugged good looks, was the very embodiment of male sensuality. He could have had her right there against the wall at the edge of the sanctuary if they hadn't been interrupted and she'd have complied willingly. She took a step backward toward his bedroom.

"I can think of a few things," she breathed. He took another slow, deliberate step toward her, backing her toward the door.

"Is that so?" She was aware of his every movement, raking her eyes over his broad shoulders, the solid muscle of his deeply freckled arms, those strong hands she wanted desperately to feel across every inch of her skin.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't come up with some ideas after last night," she told him, crossing the threshold of his bedroom with a brazen sway to her hips. He backed her into the room and the ravenous, wholly animalistic smirk on his face sent heat pooling in her knickers. The back of her legs hit the bed.

"Care to share?" He was close enough that she felt the heat of his breath tickle across her cheek. His hands were loose at his sides and she gave a desperate whimper as she reached for him and he caught her wrists, pulling her against the length of his toned body.

"Tell me what you want, Hermione," he murmured hotly against her skin, his lips grazing the corner of her mouth. She moaned, feeling the heat and hardness of his erection pressed just below her stomach.

"Charlie," she begged, pressing her hips against him wantonly.

"Tell me." He nipped at her bottom lip and let out a low huff of laughter as she turned to kiss him and he moved just out of reach.

"I want you," she gasped as he turned his attention to the side of her neck. He bit down lightly and the words tumbled out of her mouth in a plea. "Charlie, I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight and then I want you to bend me over and do it again." His hands released her wrists and slid down to cup her arse, lifting her in his arms.

"There's my vixen," he growled approvingly at her words, trailing a searing line of kisses to her lips. He turned and fell back on the bed, his hands gripping the swell of her hips as she ground herself against him. Hermione felt a heady rush as she straddled him.

"Tell me what _you_ want, Charlie," she teased, rolling her hips over the throbbing length of him. His hands slid up her sides, catching the hem of her shirt.

"I want this off," he breathed, pulling her tank top over her head and throwing it across the bed. "I want you in nothing but your perfect skin," he rolled, pinning her beneath him and peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, "spread out like my own personal feast," he slid a hand up her thigh, leaving a trail of heat as he ground himself against the fabric of her shorts, "and I want to feel you come undone under my tongue before I fuck you 'til we both pass out."

Hermione forgot how to breathe as Charlie teased her, the knuckles of one hand brushing the scorching heat between her legs, and a needy moan escaped her lips at his words. He slid down to kneel between her thighs and she lifted her hips as he dragged the material with him. Her shorts and underwear joined his shirt on the floor as Charlie lowered his mouth and grazed his teeth lightly against the inside of her thigh, his eyes locking on hers.

The look he gave her was pure, incalculable hunger, a wordless assurance that he would make her beg and scream and writhe under his touch until the world burned down around them. He trailed his mouth up to the apex of her legs, his breath hot against her skin, and the universe caught fire behind her eyelids as he hooked his arms around her thighs and buried his face between them. The first flick of his tongue had her quivering beneath him. A whine of pleasure tore from her throat as he slid his mouth over her and groaned at the slick heat.

The front door burst open.

"I hope you two are decent because we've got dinner and drinking games!" Ginny called out, making her way to the kitchen to drop off whatever they'd bought. Charlie cursed and seized the covers, pulling them over Hermione's lower half. That ravenous hunger was still blazing in his eyes as he crawled up the bed toward her and buried his face against her neck in frustration.

"Should've had _her_ take the bloody portkey home this morning," he growled, nipping at her skin as though he hadn't quite decided if being interrupted was enough of a reason to stop.

"I can hear you," came the sing-song reply from the kitchen. Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or throttle her friend for interrupting what had easily been the most erotic experience of her life.

The few times she'd done anything with Ron, it had been quick and cursory. He'd never shown the slightest bit of interest in going down on her and she'd never asked. It had felt, somehow, too intimate to share with Ron, even though she'd obliged him in the reverse. She'd never been glad of it until now.

Things felt different with Charlie. Everything felt better, amplified, as though she'd lived her entire sexual life through some sort of filter until he'd kissed her and awoken something fiery in her veins. And right now, that fiery thing was screaming at her to kick Ginny and Harry out of the cabin for the rest of the evening. Charlie seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"You say the word, love, and I'll send them both packing." His hand slid up her thigh as he nipped and sucked at a sensitive spot on her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips. "Or we can go out there and play nice," his hand slid higher, curling around her hip possessively, "let them have their evening of organized fun, and then come back here and cast a silencing charm. But either way, by the end of tonight I plan to have that beautiful mouth screaming my name to the bloody heavens."

* * *

The coffee table had been enlarged and chairs had been conjured out of thin air to seat the four of them. Hermione sat on one side of the table and tried very hard not to glower at Ginny as she set out the plates and silverware. In the end, they'd had no choice but to leave the much more preferable confines of Charlie's bedroom as Ginny had taken the opportunity to bewitch the pots and pans to chase them out. They'd had to throw their clothes on in a rush, dodging the cookware, and Hermione noted that her shirt was now on inside-out.

Charlie didn't bother to hide his irritation from his sister. He was still glaring openly at her as she smugly set the plates on the table and took a seat beside Harry. She clucked her tongue at him with a roll of her eyes.

"Come off it, Charlie, we all agreed to go for a dip tonight and I want to get there before the sun sets. It's supposed to be spectacular and you're the only one of us who knows the way, which means an early dinner." She shot a pointed look at his plate of chicken pasta. "Besides, it's _really_ good. I tried some when you were getting dressed."

"Not my first choice," Charlie muttered under his breath, flicking a heated look at Hermione who shifted restlessly. Her shorts felt tight, her knickers were damp and no matter how good the pasta tasted, she was still tempted to hex the witch's pants with a sticking spell later and see how _she_ liked being cockblocked.

The pasta was, admittedly, delicious. Ginny brought out jam pastries for dessert that somewhat appeased Charlie's temper, and with takeout that required no cleanup, the four of them were changed and packed up with drinks just as the light began to turn golden.

Charlie led the way past the boundaries of the village and down a dirt path. A trailhead lay, complete with wooden sign, at the edge of the forest. The trail wended out of sight between ancient, gnarled oaks and towering spruce, alders and poplars and such a wide variety of other verdure that Hermione was rendered speechless. The golden evening light played off the dappled trunks of tall, skinny beech trees and some feathery, twisted shrub she didn't recognize curled and spread across the forest floor. Charlie caught her eye and grinned at her fascination.

"Romania's got some of the only forests left in Europe that have never been touched by muggle loggers," he told them, leading them down the trail. "Typically the more ancient the forest, the higher the population of magical creatures. Case in point, the Forbidden Forest on Hogwarts grounds. The dragons on the preserve scare off other magical predators in the area though, so as long as it's not a migration year, you never have to worry about redcaps, acromantulas, pogrebins and the like. We still get the garden variety of critters but they mostly keep to themselves so long as you don't leave food lying around."

Hermione was enjoying Charlie in tour guide mode. He pointed out various features of the landscape; herbs that were useful in potions or wound treatments, favorite places where he and the other tamers had gone exploring at the weekends, various wand-wood trees and the occasional bowtruckle lurking in the branches above. Harry was listening interestedly and Ginny chimed in at various intervals to prompt her brother to tell them stories about his adventures. Despite the beauty of the forest around them and the hilarious tales of a tamer who'd eaten the wrong kind of mushroom and had hallucinated wildly about talking trees, her attention kept returning to Charlie. The muscles of his back and arms shifted beneath his shirt as he led them deeper into the forest, pushing overhanging branches aside to let them through. He had pulled on a pair of black swim shorts before they set out from the cabin. And the way they hugged his powerful thighs, coupled with the unattended ache he'd evoked between her legs, was doing a number on her attention span.

Charlie turned abruptly at an intersection in the trail and she nearly bumped into him.

"The right fork leads past a clearing and up to the switchbacks. It's a great place to watch the sunset usually, but we've got a couple of short-snouts roosting up at the top of the cliffs so it's been closed off 'til they've finished nesting and move on. The springs are up ahead to the left." He held a low-hanging branch back and let Ginny and Harry through. Hermione took a step to follow them but Charlie let go of the branch and slid an arm around her waist.

"Enjoying the view, vixen?" He teased. She smirked at him.

"The trees _are_ very beautiful," she quipped. His low chuckle sent tingles down her skin.

"I meant," he backed her against the trunk of the nearest tree, his breath hot against her neck, "the fact that I could _feel _you undressing me with those beautiful brown eyes the entire walk out here." He tugged gently at her earlobe with his teeth and she hummed at the attention.

"Hmm, it's a pity it didn't work," she said. She made a small noise of protest when he stepped away, but he only set his pack on the ground.

"One of these days, I'll take you out here just the two of us and let you pick whether you want it gentle on a blanket or rough and pinned against a tree like this one," he braced his hands on the wide trunk on either side of her. Merlin help her, she couldn't take much more of his teasing. She wanted both. "But as much as I'd love to do either right now, I don't much fancy having an audience. Hold out a little longer for me, love." His lips were on her neck and she let out a frustrated whimper.

"How are you so in control of yourself," she whined, tilting her head to give him better access. His laugh danced across her skin as he took her hand and slid it to the front of his shorts.

"If I was any less in control," he breathed, groaning as she palmed the hard, heavy length of him through the fabric, "your knickers would be in shreds around your ankles right now."

"Oi, lovebirds!" Ginny's voice called through the trees, "Get your arses out here, you're missing the sunset!" Hermione jumped, pulling her hand away. Charlie rolled his eyes and lifted his pack.

"But since my sister decided today was a perfect day become an absolute nagging terror, I'm trying to keep my hands off. At least until I've got you to myself." He brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss and held the branches aside so she could pass.

The trail curved down to a rocky streambed and Hermione stopped dead. The streambed parted into several pools. Steam was wafting off the water, dispersing in the breeze to form a light mist in the forest clearing. The trees opened out onto a rocky cliffside that towered above them and the sunset beyond turned the rocks, the mist, the water, and her friends glowing and golden in the last rays of light. Harry looked up at her, already submerged in a deep pool of the springs next to Ginny.

"I think," he said, a relaxed smile lighting his face, "this must be what it feels like to bathe in a vat of felix." She beamed at him. Charlie came up behind her and urged her toward the water. He set the pack aside and toed off his boots by the edge of the rocks, grinning at her invitingly. Hermione kicked her shoes off next to his and was busying herself with the zip on her shorts when Charlie pulled his shirt off.

She'd seen him topless before when she was under the hazy effects of those shots from the pub, and then earlier in the day, but he'd been between her legs at the time and she hadn't had a chance to truly look at him. The sight was mesmerizing. Charlie's chest was freckled and tan. She got the feeling he did a lot of the manual labor around the sanctuary shirtless. His chest was mottled with a collection of scars and burns that, if anything, tripled her desire to explore his body with her mouth. A light, tempting trail of auburn hair ran from his navel down into his shorts and she wanted to follow that trail with her tongue. Standing in the last rays of the sun, he looked like something out of a Playwitch magazine. She was glad Ginny and Harry were cuddled up together looking out at the view as Charlie winked at her and stepped into the pool adjacent to theirs. He sunk up to his waist in the hot water and leaned back. From behind, it would simply look like he was relaxing in the spring. But his eyes were tantalizing and hungry as he moved his mouth silently, the words only for her.

"Strip for me, love."

Her thighs clenched. She bit her lip but undressed casually, sliding her shirt over her head and pulling the denim of her shorts down her legs. And if she leaned over a bit more provocatively than she normally would to lay her clothes beside his pack, well, no one had to know. She pulled her hair up in a messy bun, stuck her wand through the middle of it, and joined him in the natural pool. He slid an arm around her waist as she settled into the hot water and pulled her into his lap. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. She could tell just how much he'd enjoyed watching her by the way he wrapped his arms around her and, below the water where the other two couldn't see, pressed himself teasingly against her backside. She'd definitely have to take him up on his offer for some alone time in the woods.

He held her in his arms as they watched the sunset in silence. When the last rays of light faded over the horizon and the moon shone down, Ginny turned and summoned a bottle of firewhiskey out of Charlie's bag. She poured them each a glass and set them down on the rocky divider between their pools.

"Wands out," she said, grinning widely. She conjured a bubble of water from the spring and hovered it above them. "We each take a turn casting an enchantment on the bubble. It can be funny or pretty or whatever you choose, but no solidification, hardening, unpoppable, or other protective spells. Whoever pops the bubble takes a shot and we go again with new enchantments." She summoned Harry and Charlie's wands and handed them over with an eager smile. At Grimmauld Place, Molly Weasley kept a close eye on her children and recreational drinking was as good as banned to her daughter without the excuse of a special occasion. Ginny was taking full advantage of the temporary freedom.

She cast the first enchantment, decorating the bubble with a lacy layer of frost, then looked to Harry. He conjured small wings of water, which attached themselves to the bubble and fluttered in a spray of droplets so that it looked like a snitch. Charlie thought for a moment, then shaped the water inside the snitch. It took the form of a small dragon, curled up as though asleep in an egg. When it came to her turn, Hermione already knew what she could do with the shape of the little dragon inside the bubble. She conjured a tiny lick of the bluebell flame that she'd used so many times at Hogwarts. She altered the spell just enough so that it emitted light without producing heat. The bubble stayed intact. Ginny oohed appreciatively and Charlie and Harry applauded her.

The game went on for more than an hour. Once the first bubble popped and Ginny took a shot, the enchantments became more and more outlandish. The bubble became a dirigible plum. It grew shockingly orange fur. It flashed the full color spectrum while singing Celestina Warbeck and the four of them laughed harder as the firewhiskey was passed around. By the time they were finished, the night air had grown chilly and the bubble was zooming around over their heads whistling an off-key version of a Weird Sisters song while it sprinkled glowing flecks of stardust on their heads.

They let the bubble sink back under the water while they cast drying charms and pulled their clothes back on. Ginny and Harry, who had popped the bubble most frequently, were laughing and murmuring to each other as they led the way back up the trail. Charlie and Hermione followed them hand-in-hand, lighting the path with their wands. When the trail narrowed, Charlie gestured for her to walk ahead. She knew with one look over her shoulder that he was undressing her with his eyes just as she'd done to him on the way there. By the time they reached the trailhead, she was tempted to just pull Charlie against one of the buildings, to hell with anyone who happened to walk past. But he pulled her to him and hoisted her over his shoulder when she voiced the idea, laughing.

"I'm not taking you against a wall the first time, love," he told her in a low voice, smirking as he smacked her teasingly across the arse. "No way to soundproof it properly with all the protective enchantments they've already got around here, and I plan to take my time with you." The promise he'd made earlier rang in her head and she grazed her nails down his back as he carried her toward the cabin.

* * *

Inside, he set her down long enough to wish Harry and Ginny a good night and thank them for the evening of entertainment and then lifted her in his arms, carried her to his room, and shut the door behind them.

Hermione was already casting a silencing charm when he turned around. He murmured a charm of his own and the lamp by the bed flickered to life, filling the room with a dim, warm glow.

"On the bed, love," he said. Just the tone of his voice was enough to leave Hermione's legs weak and she lay back on the bed, watching hungrily as Charlie pulled his shirt off. He crawled across the bed toward her and met her lips with a searing kiss that had her digging her nails greedily into the bare skin of his shoulders. He pulled back and ran his hands up her legs, dragging her shorts down without prelude as he nipped at her stomach and hips. She moaned when her bikini bottoms joined the shorts on the floor and Charlie rested her legs on his shoulders.

He looked up at her with eyes that could have melted metal and she whimpered, tangling her fingers in his hair. He bit at the inside of her thigh, laving the area with his tongue

"Don't tease me, Charlie," she begged, breathless as she writhed in impatience. "I've been waiting all da-" A moan tore from her lips as he obliged, spreading her thighs with his shoulders. His breath was hot, his tongue searing as he stroked and sucked until her knees were trembling. The stubble of his jaw grazed at her sensitive skin and he parted her beneath him and groaned in satisfaction.

The sound vibrated through her and her muscles contracted around him as he slid his tongue deeper. Her hands fisted in his hair. Fuck, she'd never felt anything like it. There was an inferno racing through her, centering on the nerves he tugged and flicked and tormented, and she was writhing, gasping for more. He locked his arms around her legs and pulled her fully against his mouth, devouring her and filling her, his hands kneading her thighs as waves of pleasure reverberated through every cell of her being. Her back arched, her nails grazing against his scalp as he licked at her, heavy and intent, and the surge that tore through her had her crying out as she came undone just as he'd promised.

Charlie nuzzled against her thigh as she caught her breath, his lips brushing across her trembling skin. The backs of her legs were beaded with sweat, her heart thundering against her chest. He crawled up the bed and lay next to her, cradling her in his arms.

"Gods," she breathed, her eyelids fluttering shut. "I've never- Nothing's ever..." She gave up on words, rolling over to kiss him, and he pulled her on top, trailing his mouth down the side of her neck.

"That good, mm?" he murmured against her skin. She gave a moan of breathless confirmation and he grinned, sliding a hand up her side. "Think you can handle a little more?" he teased huskily, his thumb brushing the underside of her breasts. The timbre of his voice had her aching all over again. She pulled the swim top over her head, her fingers still buzzing too much to bother with untying anything, and dropped it to the floor.

Charlie's hands set her on fire as he cupped and stroked her, the calluses on his palms working their own brand of magic against her skin. His thumb flicked across her nipple and she ground herself against him, heat pulsing between her thighs. She dragged her nails down his chest and felt him throb against her as he hissed in pleasure.

"Take these off," Hermione begged, curling her fingers into the waistband of his shorts.

Charlie rolled, pinning her beneath him, and captured her lips with his as she tugged the fabric down his legs. She ground herself needily against him, panting as the thick, heavy length of his cock slid between her thighs.

"Is this what you want, love?" he breathed, winding his fingers in her hair. A playful thrust at her entrance had her clawing at his shoulders demandingly.

"Charlie, if you keep teasing me I swear to Merlin I will hex you," she groaned, locking her legs over his hips to pull him closer. He reached between them, curling two fingers into the wet heat between her thighs and she whimpered in frustration. Pleading only seemed to make him enjoy prolonging the torment, his hand finding a slow, vexing rhythm that shredded at her sanity. She switched tactics.

Hermione met his eyes with a sultry look and rolled her hips, clenching against his hand.

"I thought," she told him, her fingers skimming teasingly down his shaft, "that you were done waiting. You promised you'd have me screaming your name when we got back here," her hand closed around him and she bit her lip against a sob of impatience as he groaned and thrust against her. "Or was that all just talk?" the words left her in a breathless hiss. His eyes locked on hers, blazing and thoroughly intent on the challenge in her tone.

Oh, she had him. There wasn't a lick of doubt in her mind about the things his body could do. He'd already proved that and from his cocky smirk knew it, too. But the challenge had riled something in him and she could see it tearing at his self-control.

"Done playing are we, vixen?" Charlie growled, his hand leaving the apex of her thighs to hoist her calf over his broad shoulder. Her breath hitched. He murmured a contraceptive charm over them both and tossed his wand on the bedside table, eyes dark and hungry in the low light. A thrill shot through her as he dragged her down the bed, sinking his teeth into the flesh above her knee. His eyes never left hers as he sheathed himself slowly and deliberately in her tight, wet heat. A moan tore from his lips and she echoed it in delirious ardor, bucking against him.

Charlie was the only thing in her world, his lips like fire against her skin. Every roll of his hips stretched her wide beneath him, every brush and grasp of his hands down her waist, over her breasts, down her arms and legs sending a hedonic fever building in her blood. His pace quickened and he let his head fall back with a deep moan, red hair cascading down the strong column of his throat and over his unoccupied shoulder as she grazed her nails down the sides of his thighs. Her back arched at the delicious friction and she met his thrusts, taking him deeper. His name escaped her lips in a mewl and his free hand tangled in her hair.

"That's it, vixen," he coaxed, tugging gingerly at a fistful of her curls. He slammed into her and her vision blurred as her eyes rolled back.

"Say it again," he panted, pulling her leg off his shoulder in a smooth motion so she lay on her side, his cock plowing deeper. The new angle had her contracting around him, a cry of pure, wild pleasure tumbling from her lips. She clawed at his arm, exquisite pressure building inside her with each stroke as he took her hard.

"_Charlie_," She wanted to plead for more, to beg him not to stop, but all it took was his name on her tongue and he was pulling her onto her knees, his hands grasping hard at her hips as he slammed into her with frenzied strokes that sent her over the edge into convulsions of ecstasy.

"_Fuck_," he cursed in pleasure as she tightened around him, groaning loudly as he thrust once, twice, rough and deep and filled her to completion.

Hermione's legs trembled and she collapsed on the bed, panting as he pulled out of her. There was a pleasant, satisfied ache between her legs and he cleaned her up gently before kissing his way up her back, over her shoulder, and capturing her lips with his. He held her as they caught their breath, his hands stroking lazy circles down her sides.

"You're magnificent," Charlie murmured against her skin. He tugged her closer, spooning her body against his, the blankets pooling around their legs. Hermione pillowed her head on his arm and smiled, exhausted and utterly sated.

"So are you," she breathed, "I don't want to ever go back to England." His embrace tightened and he tangled his legs with hers as he brought his lips to her ear,

"Then stay," he whispered and she hummed in agreement as sleep pulled her under.

**As always, I live for your reviews. Don't be shy ;)  
****\- Calyssion**


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